


For the Love of a Prince

by WavesBlade



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Deception, Demonic Pact, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Origional Ashbringer, Trust Issues, Villains to Heroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 67,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WavesBlade/pseuds/WavesBlade
Summary: Jaina had lost everything. Her Prince, her home, her people. After being banished from the Kirin Tor, she is left adrift, lost in the past and her sorrow, until she is approached by a demon long thought dead. When the demon offers to send them both back in time, Jaina, having nothing left to lose in her mind, agrees. Will the Love for a Prince defeat the cunning of a Demon? Or will the Burning Legion consume them all?





	1. Nothing Left to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> If some of the things said here conflict with Lore, sorry, I'm changing things to fit the story. Example: Jaina's banishment VS just leaving, Jaina still having her locket even though she gave it to the players, or the Warlocks not having the Book of Medivh. I also haven't played a lot of WoW since WoTLK, so, I'll be missing plenty of things most likely.

Jaina Proudmore, Arcmage of the Kirin Tor, and arguably the strongest human sorceress alive, stood, as she had finally begun to realize she had since the Fall of Lodaeron, since she had turned away from Arthas, alone. She was in the center of the Chamber of the Council of Six, it's members staring down upon her with extreme disapproval, resignation, and sorrow.

They called her warmonger: For wanting the Horde to pay for it's crimes, for encouraging the Alliance to war, trying to turn the neutral factions such as the Argent Crusade, the Earthen Ring, and the Cenarion Circle against the brutes.

They called her warped: For all the suffering she had gone through that they said turned her cold and cruel.

They called her damaged: For losing her Prince. For losing her Kingdom. For standing aside and losing her father. For her homeland, Kul Tiras, disowning and banishing her for that crime. For Theramore being destroyed. For all the constant struggles over the years against the Scourge, the Legion, the Old Gods, the Horde, and so much more...

It had finally come to a head, they had put her on a trial that she hardly paid attention to. The verdict was already a given, they wanted her gone. Nothing she said would have made a difference to their deaf ears. She hoped when the Horde betrayed them and slit their throats, her warning was the last thing they would remember.

"...and it is with great regret, that you leave me no choice but to strip you of your rank as Archmage, and banish you from the Kirin Tor," handed down archmage Khadgar.

"Banishment," echoed Jaina dully.

Another home that had been either destroyed or turned her out. She should have been effected, but strangely, she just felt... nothing.

"How quaint," she mused.

Khadgar slowly shook his head. "You will be allowed time to gather your personal effects, anything however that belongs to the Kirin Tor will be confiscated from your chambers."

Jaina pursed her lips. "That won't be necessary."

Honestly, what did they think she owned but the robes on her body and her staff Halion in her hand? She cared nothing for riches, and all her old mementos and heirlooms from both home and Lodaeron had been destroyed when Theramore had been wiped away. She had... nothing left.

She looked over the Council of Six one last time, feeling nothing for any of them, before turning and walking from the chamber. She had said all she had to say a long time ago. Once she left the Violet Citadel, she stood silently at it's steps, pondering where to teleport herself to. She had no place to call home anymore. Lodaeron was gone. Theramore was gone. Kul Tiras and Dalaran had both banished her. The Alliance had slowly all started to become wary of her. Of _**HER**_ , who had fought at the Battle of Mount Hyjal while most of them save for the Night Elves hadn't even been aware the Burning Legion had invaded.

Tirion Fordring hadn't outright banished her from Hearthglen or the crusade's other bases of operation for trying to turn the Argent Crusade on the Horde, but she wouldn't be welcome, with that self-righteous bastard looking down on her disapprovingly. Honestly, where did he get the nerve? Where was **_HE_ ** when Lodaeron fell? Sitting in his hut in exile while everyone else fought and died. While _her prince_ was slowly consumed by a trial he wasn't ready for...

The Cenarion Circle and the Earthen Ring weren't options either. She was no druid, not to mention druids frowned upon the arcane. She wasn't a shaman either, and she knew she couldn't tolerate being in organizations that allowed the Horde membership. Even Thrall, the only good leader the Horde had ever had, probably would look down on her the way Khadgar did. She contemplated Shattrath, but... she had no personal desire nor connection to the city of light.

The same was true for so many other neutral or minor factions.

She had nowhere to go, nowhere and no one to belong to.

She was alone.

She gripped Halion tightly, glancing down silently at her old staff. She had honestly forgotten about it back when she had first fled Dalaran when the Scourge came for the Book of Medeiv. It had been a weaker make, back when she had been an apprentice. But Arthas... when he had taken the city, had taken her old staff as a memento. And when she found it, in the troves of items the Lich King had horded of his past life, it had nearly broken her and sent her into tears. He had treasured it, empowered it, not even with the power of undeath, just arcane enchantments and strength, turned it into something he had probably thought she would have one day wielded as a powerful archmage. So she had taken both it and her old locket, as much as it had hurt her heart to have them, to remember her prince.

"You're all I have left of him Halion," murmured Jaina, "My staff of forgotten love."

She slowly walked away from the Violet Citadel, walking to the old wishing fountain, littered with coins in it's depths. She remembered the foolish wish she had made with that gold coin...

_Arthas, my love, please come back to me..._

She slowly raised a hand, glowing softly with arcane power, and felt for her signature amongst the coins. She found the old thing and lifted it out with her magic into her hand. She stared down at it silently, brushing a thumb over it. Wishes never accomplished anything. Only action did. She had never gone after Arthas after Strathlome, interacted with him, until it had been to late. Until he had already merged into the Lich King. If only she had tried to reach him...

She let out a shaky breath and pocketed the coin, ignoring the looks a few of the people fishing out of the fountain gave her (Seriously? Fishing in the wishing fountain?). She had found it absurd the first time she had seen it, she still did now. She still didn't have any clue where to go. She'd eventually be kicked out of Dalaran by force if she was still here by the end of the day. So she had to go _somewhere_.

She sighed, aimed her staff, and opened a portal to the place where she had made her greatest mistake...

...and came out at the gates of Strathlome. Where she had turned her back on her prince. She stared at it's gates, her eyes cloudy, memories of another time dancing across her vision. She slowly shook her head and walked away, down the bridge, and to the bank of the river. She sat down, staring at her reflection in the water.

Middle-aged, but with gray mana bombed hair and far to many stress wrinkles across her face. She hadn't care enough to flaunt it ever since Lodaeron fell, but she had been beautiful once. She smiled faintly, a slight blush on her face, when she recalled the rather revealing outfit female Archmages had worn back in the day. Her smile faded, because of course back then people didn't need some kind of armor or enchanted cloth covering nearly every inch of their body from protection from who knows what they needed nowadays.

"What I would do to go back to that time," she murmured, slowly shaking her head.

It was an actual possibility, but if she tried to access the Caverns of Time for the purpose of changing the past, Nozdormu would have her head. Not to mention, what good would it do her? The Jaina Proudmoore living in the past? It would help her, but the Jaina now? She'd be some old crone, Light, Arthas would probably find her repulsive, if not in body, then in mind and spirit for all she had changed from the young archmage he had known. She'd probably end up banished again...

"It's all pointless," she muttered.

"Is it, Lady Proudmoore?" came a cold, calculating, cruel voice.

Jaina froze for a moment before surging to her feet turning, and aiming her staff, already glowing with power, at the monstrous being standing before her. Towering over her in height was the demonic horned form of a dreadlord, it's pale bony glowing wings stretched to the sides. Fel armor lined it's torso, arms, and legs. It's claws sharp and curved, easily able to take skin from the bone. It's hoves ground into the dirt beneath it. It's glow green eyes stared down at her, calculating, a devious and cruel smirk across it's face.

"You're bold to approach me Dreadlord," said Jaina in a warning tone, "Especially with all your masters dead or imprisoned. The Legion is finished, whatever you hope to accomplish is pointless."

"Is it?" said the Dreadlord once more, "I think not, or rather, I think it does not need to be."

Jaina narrowed her eyes, waiting, but the Dreadlord took no offensive action, "What do you want Dreadlord? Who are you?"

It's smirk turned into a grin. "I am Tichondrius."

Jaina's eyes went wide. The leader of the Dreadlords? "I thought you were dead."

"It matters greatly where a demon dies," mused the demon, "And dying in a mortal world upon the Broken Isles, does not permanently kill one such as I. But I digress... you wish you could change the past?"

"What of it?" said Jaina warily, "It's a foolish desire, even if I could get around the Bronze Dragonflight, it wouldn't be me that I would be changing the past for, just my younger self."

The demon grinned. "Such a selfish desire. One would think you would be willing to give your younger self and your beloved prince a chance even at the expense of your own happiness."

Jaina scoffed. "I've been selfless enough my entire life, and look where it got me."

Tichondrius chuckled. "Indeed, but what if there was a way to circumvent that standard method of time travel? What if you could take the place of your younger self? To adopt your younger body again, and try to change what has been written?"

Jaina froze up for a moment, countless possibilities crossing her mind, before she shoved them aside. "It wouldn't matter. The Bronze Dragonflight would just undo it all."

"Would they? Do you so readily forget the Horde of the altered timestream?" questioned Tichondrious, "Where the Orc, Garrosh Hellscream, fled and changed the past quite successfully?"

Jaina's staff lowered, her voice hushed and trembling. "What of it? He was still himself."

"What if there was a way to create a new timestream, and fit yourself into your old body?" questioned Tichondrious, "Would you take the chance?"

Jaina's throat felt oh so dry. "I... how would it even be possible?"

A deadly grin crossed the demon's face. "Tell me Lady Proudmoore, do you know what happened to the Book of Medivh?"

Jaina was caught offguard by the question, blinking a few times. "I... no. Kel'Thuzzad used it to summon Archmonde and start the invasion, but after that, it was never found."

"Perhaps foolishly, I never took the book from the Lich," said Tichondrius, "The Lich kept the book upon his person at all times."

"But... Naxxramas was raided, twice!" said Jaina, "No one found the book!"

"Because he hid it before he fell, underneath the throne in his chambers of Naxxramas," said Tichondrius, a mocking tone escaping his lips, "Where no one foolishly bothered to check."

"What... what exactly are you proposing?" demanded Jaina.

"Kel'Thuzzad feared the Legion obtaining the book and using it to summon Kil'Jaeden," explained Tichondrius, "It's hiding place, while detectable, is shielded against demonic presence. I cannot retrieve it myself. In the depths of the book is a spell that we need. Obtain it, and we will create a new world. You will take the place of your younger self, as will I."

"A bargain, a challenge, a pact," offered the Dreadlord, "We both shall attempt to change the past for our betterment, but only one shall succeed in the end. Are you willing to take the risk?"

Jaina was tempted, oh so tempted, but... "I'm only one archmage, who everyone will think is insane if I start spouting 'nonsense' about the future. How could I possibly win against you and your influence within the Legion? All you have to do is tell Archimonde and Kil'Jaeden and..."

"And what?" asked Tichondrius, "Tell them that I have more knowledge that I had before? Let them know that I am more dangerous than I was? That perhaps I might actually succeed with supplanting one of them as the Right or Left hand of Sargaras?"

Jaina paused at that. "You'd betray them?"

"I _**AM** _ a demon," mused the Dreadlord.

"That you are," muttered Jaina.

"Make no mistake Archmage," warned Tichondrius, "I will have the advantage over you, but not as insurmountable as you may think. If I reveal my hand at an ill opportune moment, neither Archimonde or Kil'Jaeden will hesitate to rip my mind asunder for the knowledge I have and permanently dispose of me."

"Then why would you even propose this?" demanded Jaina.

"Because having even the slightest chance of victory is worth the complete lack of it I have now," said Tichondrius, "Sargaras is imprisoned, Archimonde and Kil'Jaeden dead, so many of our most elite have permanently fallen, the armies of the Legion scattered, our prime world broken. Even if I tried to remake the Legion here, the champions of the Light have grown to powerful. The Legion has lost here, but in the past... there is still a chance."

Jaina licked her lips. The chance to change the past... to get the life she had always wanted... but at the risk of the Legion also having another chance of burning all of creation... was it worth the risk? Could she go through losing everything again?

"What have you left to lose in this life Lady Proudmoore?" asked the Dreadlord.

She thought about it for a moment, before answering quietly, "Aside for my life, nothing. I... I have nothing left."

"Then have we an accord?" inquired the Dreadlord.

"When," she asked, sidestepping an answer for the moment, "How far into the past would we go?"

"I think it fair to say just before the Scourging of Lodaeron," proposed the Dreadlord, holding out a hand, "A week before you and Arthas began the journey into the plagued north."

Arthas would still be alive.

Still be whole of mind, body, and spirit.

Still be her prince.

She'd have everything back... have a chance to influence things for the better.

A week before the End of the World began to try to set herself up for success...

Jaina looked the demon in the eye, stepped forward, and took his hand. "We have a deal."

They vanished in a burst of demonic fire, reappearing outside the crashed dread citadel Naxxramas in Northrend. Both her and the Dreadlord ducked behind a few pieces of debris, hiding from the view of the Argent Crusade and the Kirin Tor who were slowly working to dismantle the once great symbol of the Scourge's power.

"We must be silent and swift," warned the Dreadlord, "I have masked our presence, but it will not matter if we foolishly run into one of these fools here. If it comes down to it Archmage, are you willing to kill for this chance?"

"Is that even a question?" she shot back bitterly, "They killed him, they killed my prince without even trying to free him from the grip of the Lich King."

The Dreadlord bared his teeth in delight. "My how life has made you bitter. You would have made an excellent demoness."

Jaina scoffed. "Don't even try it. The Legion is what created the Scourge and stole everything from me. Don't think I don't know that."

The Dreadlord chuckled before turning. "Come."

Jaina began to trail behind him as they moved from one debris to another. "You couldn't have just teleported us inside?"

"There are still enchantments in place that prevent such action," whispered the Dreadlord back.

They moved quietly until they came closer to the entrance. It was guarded by several of the crusade, at least two paladins and an archmage.

"Hmm...," murmured the Dreadlord, "The time for concealment ended far sooner than I would have liked. Be ready, I will stun them, you will kill."

Jaina nodded and steeled herself for what she was about to do. To kill and betray the servants of the light. Regardless of her bitterness, this... this was a dark sin.

Tichondrius stood to his full height and raised a hand to the sky. Fel green clouds swirled in the air, cackling green lightning Down from the heavens, as if a dark harbinger, rained an infernal, the Legion construct smashed right into the group of guards, stunning them before slamming a demonic fist into the face of the archmage, crushing his skull into the walls of Naxxramas. Jaina acted instantly, aiming her staff and putting twin bolts of lightning straight through the hearts of the two Paladins. Best to put them down before they could do any of their healing or divine shield nonsense. They had to be quick about this.

"I will create a diversion, it will last us only so long," warned Tichondrius, before raising his hands to the sky again.

Infernals began raining down from the sky upon the area around the dread citadel. Dark portals began to split open and out poured demons, slaughtering the defenders of the Light. As the battle began, she and Tichondrius rushed into Naxxramas.

"Be mindful of the Plague of Undeath," warned Tichondrius, "Touch any of the green liquid scattered about, and your life is forfeit."

"I'm aware," said Jaina, taking a brief moment to shield herself with her strongest enchantment.

It was difficult to navigate the fallen necropolis, it's walls had become its floors, and it's floors and ceiling its walls. Corpses of the undead still littered the halls.

"Split up, each Quarter houses an activation switch at the end to allow access to the Frostwyrm Lair and the Throne of Naxxramas," said Tichondrius.

Jaina nodded and rushed down a webbed tunnel, the Arachnid Quarter if she remembered correctly. She passed by the broken husk of a Crypt Lord, the collapsed body of a fallen mage reeking of fire and necrotic magic, and into the nest of a rotting spider queen to find the first switch.

"Halt! Who goes there?!" came a voice.

Jaina turned, spotting a patrol of Argent Crusader's walking towards her. Without a word, she aimed her staff and froze them solid, hypothermia and asphyxiation would do the rest for her. She brushed past the blocks of ice and left the quarter, meeting up with Tichondrius and...

"Patchwerk play?" asked a gigantic stinking abomination glowing with green fel fire, looking down at her, it's massive cleaver gripped in it's hand, chains handing off its cut open body, innards disgustingly on display.

Jaina glanced over at the Dreadlord. "Friend of yours?"

"The Argent Crusade left the corpses of the Scourge's most elite scattered around rather than disposing of them," calmly stated Tichondrius, "I am rather adept at reanimation myself and thought to use one as a guardian if need be. I heard tales of the strength of this one especially."

Jaina merely nodded. "I'll take the Military Quarter, I'm leaving you to the Plague Quarter."

"A wise decision," mused the Dreadlord.

Jaina rushed through the Military Quarter, blasting away any Argent Crusader or agent of the Kirin Tor she came across, until she reached the room of the Four Horsemen. She paused to briefly look at the four corpses still there. Sir Zeliek, Lady Blaumeux. Thane Korth'azz, and Baron Rivendare. Though, once long ago, instead of Rivendare it had been Alexandrous Mograine, the original Ashbringer, dead and corrupted, before his son set him free. She briefly considered him and made a mental note to try and find a way to keep him alive. She'd only met him once in the capital city, back when his hand had been damaged, before the blade had been made, but she had heard of his feats in the Plaguelands. He would be an extremely valuable ally, not like that old pretender Tirion.

She activated the switch and went back to the central area, finding the giant abomination Patchwerk at the entrance, fighting to keep the Argent Crusade out.

Tichondrius arrived a moment latter and motioned to the now glowing platform above their heads, "Come, there is not much time. Surely by now word has been sent to both Dalaran and the Argent Crusade, reinforcements will be here soon, and if the Ashbringer or the Council of Six is amongst them, our efforts are for naught."

"Lets go then!" she exclaimed, rushing for the teleporter.

They went through and charged down the chilled lair of Sapphirion, whose bones still littered the giant room. Tichondrious muttered an incantation under his breath and aimed a burning green hand at the corpse. Fel energy rushed out and engulfed the dragon's bones, knitting together and reanimating the dread dragon, who let loose a massive roar that shook the foundations of the dread citadel.

"Let none pass!" ordered the Dreadlord as they ran.

Finally, they reached the Throne of Naxxramas, crossed the room, where Tichondrious pointed her to the hiding spot of the Book of Medivh. She briefly studied the enchantments, pressing their spellwork into memory in-case she needed them in the future, and shattered them. She opened a hidden compartment behind the throne, and there it was, the Book of Medivh. She grasped the book, feeling the raw power within it's pages, and hefted it out. Her arms trembled at the magical energy just _begging_ her to use...

"Give it here," demanded the Dreadlord, "And begin summoning anything you can. It will take time to enact the spell.

Jaina nodded wordlessly, calling forth her favored Water Elementals. She could feel their irritation at the Dreadlord's presence, but forced them to move to the front of the room. The Dreadlord flipped quickly, but carefully through the book until he came across the page he desired. He held up his hands, and the book began to float above him. Demonic language burned from his tongue as he began to chant an incantation. The moment he began, Jaina could feel the change in the air, the heaviness, the way magic and time around them began to warp.

She could also feel the presence of _many_ powerful beings suddenly turn in their direction. From the Dragon Aspects, to the champions of the Light, to the archmages in Dalaran, even the Naaru on the other worlds. The great druids of the Night Elves, their demigods. The few old gods that still lived. The creatures of the Void so far out in the dark places of existence. So many beings recoiled and grew alarmed at the ripples emanating from the incantation bleeding through the air. Even in the pit of her own stomach, a sense of dread, of fear, of absolute doom filled her.

"We are going to have an absurd amount of company if you don't hurry it up Dreadlord," hissed Jaina.

The Dreadlord didn't respond, still chanting in his burning tongue.

Jaina aimed her staff at the entrance of the chamber, releasing a burst of frost that froze the entryway and blockaded it with ice. She began to sweat, feeling so much power not only in the air from the spellwork, but coming towards her. **_Everything_** , **_everyone_ ** was coming. Why? Why was this spell giving off this sensation? Her eyes briefly flickered to the Dreadlord, before going back to the entrance as an ear splitting roar of a a fel frostwyrm engaging in battle echoed through the walls. They were running out of time...

Ten minutes ticked away before the hazy image of someone on the other side of the frost wall began pounding on it. Magic and light began to sear the spellwork, and Jaina thrust her staff forward, fueling her barrier with power...

She winced as light split down it. Oh she recognized that. Her spellwork wasn't going to hold back the Ashbringer for long, and elementals would do nothing, she dismissed them in favor of concentrating on the barrier. Damn, that old bastard had arrived fast. Who the hell had gone to him and teleported him here that quickly? She had her answer a moment later when the grim face of Khadgar became visible through the barrier. Damn him. Damn him! He wasn't going to rob her of this chance! The only chance she had left...

Khadgar and Tirion broke through the barrier a moment later.

"Jaina! Stop!" yelled Khadgar, "Can't you feel what this spell is going to do?"

"Whatever the demon has promised, it's not worth the price!" warned Tirion, stepping forward, "Disrupt this before it's to late!"

The Dreadlord finished his incantation seconds later a blood red portal ripping open the air behind him. "It's time Proudmoore!"

The dreadful feeling in her stomach skyrocketed the moment the portal opened, she hadn't bothered to analyze the energy, but she knew there was going to be a price to pay if they stepped through it. "What haven't you told me Dreadlord?"

A cruel grin split his lips and he extended a hand to her. "Nothing that should concern you. But if you must know, to create one timeline in this manner, another must die. Everyone and everything that exists in this world will die and disappear the moment we step through and rip time asunder."

Jaina froze completely for a moment, before a soft curse escaped her lips. "You bastard."

"Stop him!" roared Tirion, rushing forward.

Jaina glanced back at the Ashbringer and the Leader of the Kirin Tor before she made her decision and rushed forward. Not to stop the Dreadlord, but to take his hand, and then dive through the portal...

And in that moment...

It was as if trillions, as if countless voices, cried out in unison, before being silenced forevermore...

But she'd bare that wound in her soul...

The knowledge that she had just murdered so many countless beings...

All for the chance to have her Prince again...

To be happy again...


	2. Home

Jaina awoke with a start, the feel of a bed that she hadn't slept on in decades underneath her. Her eyes swung around wildly to take in the room she had been in as an apprentice Archmage to Antonidas. And instantly, at the mere thought of him, she let out a gasp, feeling his wise presence in the connected office-study. As a Master and Apprentice, they had shared the same suite. He was alive... her old teacher was alive...

She wanted to let out a sob and go rush to him, bury him in a hug that would leave him utterly flabbergasted and probably chastising her if she recalled his attitude correctly. He was wise, and while he kept his own council, he did always bend an ear to listen to her.

_But not to others..._

She frowned briefly. That's right, Medivh had warned Antonidas... warned King Teranus... warned Arthas... and finally when he warned her, he found an ear to listen. Could she convince Antonidas to listen?

Wait.

Did she need to?

If she could stop the Scourge... stop Arthas's fall... stop Kel'Thuzzad's reanimation in the Sunwell... they'd never get a chance to preform the summoning. Hell, if she could somehow find and destroy wherever the Kirin Tor kept the Book of Medivh, they couldn't summing Archmonde period. Though destroying the book would probably get her kicked out of the Kirin Tor, and this Kirin Tor was the old one, _her_ Kirin Tor, not the _degrading_ new one.

No, wait a second, destroying the Book wouldn't solve anything even _**IF** _ she could.

Kil'Jaeden had been summoned through the Sunwell. So the Legion could still invade. Which was a curious thing, why hadn't they used the Sunwell the first time? Perhaps it had needed to be corrupted first by Kel'Thuzzad's revival, and then given time to regenerate its then tainted power? That made a bit more sense. Still, even without Kel'Thuzzad, there were other ways the Sunwell could be corrupted. But if the Scourge never took Lordaeron, Quel'Thalas would most likely not fall, and Sylvanas would never be twisted into a monster.

With the foreknowledge she had, the spells she knew that she couldn't even conceive of at this time originally, the support of her Prince, the Scourge wouldn't stand a chance...

Except...

She crossed her arms. "Tichondrius..."

The Dreadlord wasn't going to make this easy. He would be trying to influence things to. There was a chance, with both her and that monster's efforts, things were going to derail very quickly. So right here and now, she needed to begin the chance. What to do though? Antonidas wouldn't be approached by Medivh for another day or so, and it was afterwards then she'd be sent out to meet Arthas by the end of the week...

She leaned back in her bed, thinking. She didn't want things to end the way they had between Arthas and Uther originally. Ideally, the Paladin and the Silverhand would support Arthas. However... she ought to have some kind of contingency incase that didn't change, Arthas was stubborn as hell, and with the horrors of the Scourge, she remembered him having a _very_ short temper. Arthas purged Strathlome, and headed north, vastly unprepared. Should she try to get more troops for him?

No, wait what was she thinking?! Arthas couldn't go **_ANYWHERE_ ** near Northrend, near Frostmourne...

"Though...," she murmured thoughtfully, "If I could get at that sword before it was gorged on souls, I might be able to destroy it if I use all my power."

Except wait.

She swore to herself. She was younger now! Did she even have a fraction of the power she would wield decades later? Or even at Hyjal?

Jaina closed her eyes and reached inward, pulling out her arcane might. She held out a hand, glowing with purple energy. It was unfortunately as she feared. She wasn't nearly as strong as she was in the future. Though... she didn't remember having this much back then. Perhaps she simply knew better how to draw out her potential than she did during her apprenticeship. She could feel objects in the room begin to levitate as she delved deeper and deeper. Her hair began to flow, translucent energy gliding down it. She smiled softly, it actually wasn't that bad to feel weaker, ignoring that she needed the power. There was so much less she had to struggle to control, she could safely let her magic coat her without it going haywire...

"Impressive," came a voice that both stole her concentration and her breath away.

She opened her eyes to a sight that drew such a smile from her face. "Master Antonidas."

There in his full elderly glory, was her old teacher standing in the doorway. Elegant Dalaran purple and gold robes gently wrapped around his body. His gnarled staff in his hand. His oh so long (and ticklish!) white beard stretching down to his chest. A purple cap covering his bald head. His eyes, white with age and arcane power. His face, so gentle and wise, unless someone ticked him off. Just the sight of him filled her with happiness, it felt like a piece of her soul had suddenly come back to her.

"I must have lapsed in my concentration," confessed Antonidas with praise, "I was not aware you had progressed so much."

Jaina relaxed her power, levitating the various objects in the room back down, and blushed furiously as if she were the young Archmage her body showed her to be. "Y-you are to kind Master."

"I was curious what you seemed to be in such deep concentration about," mused Antonidas, "But I seem to have found my answer."

Jaina hesitated briefly, her mind searching for something. "Well... actually Master, I... I was hoping to make a request."

Antonidas raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I wanted to prepare myself to showcase my progress later on so I...," she began, "So I could request a brief leave of absence from my studies."

"While I am not against it, even if you hadn't shown your growing prowess," he stated, "Whatever for child?"

"I want to go home for a day or so," she said, "I... I haven't seen my family for some time."

Antonidas nodded slowly, pulling on his beard. "Oh, is that all? My dear with such grave words and a impressive showcase, I thought you were going to request a month off."

She grinned, recognizing his teasing. "No, just a day or so to drop in and say hi."

And to convince her family to not sit in Kul Turas and do _nothing_ the entire Third War. Well, to be fair, she had commandeered a lot of the fleet for evacuating what was left of Lordaeron's populace without even gracing her father with an explanation the first time around. And look how _that_ turned out. Her father hadn't seen Thrall's goodness for himself, and locked into his old ways, sealed his fate.

That _wouldn't_ happen this time.

"Is something the matter Jaina?" asked Antonidas, "I haven't seen you lose yourself so deeply and quickly in thought before in some time. Why if I recall, it was when you were studying how to summon a Water Elemental."

Jaina blinked a few times, and sheepishly scratched her head. "Sorry, just thinking of what to do with my family."

"If you want a few weeks Jaina, it's nothing much to ask for," said Antonidas, "Once you become a full-fledged Archmage, your time is going to be far more limited."

Wasn't that true. "I thank you for the offer, but, I feel that I should be here in a few days from now."

That, of course, was a foolish thing to say in hindsight. Antonidas pulled on his beard. "Why is that?"

"I... I don't know," murmured Jaina, "There's something in the air Master, I feel like something's coming. It's why I want to visit my family. I might not get the chance to again for some time."

That put Antonidas deep in thought. "Hmm... so you feel it too..."

Wait, what? Antonidas had some kind of inkling something was coming, and he brushed aside the prophet like that? Then again... he was spouting death and doom... She'd give her Master the benefit of the doubt.

"Very well, dress and be off with you then child," said Antonidas, turning and striding from the room.

Jaina blinked a few times before glancing down at herself and staring. Oh, she hadn't worn pajamas in _ages_. It was always wise to wear her robes and be ready to spring up from sleep and move on a moments notice. Never knew if her base or _town_ were going to get raided or blown up while she was sleeping. Still, she shifted her body, feeling the nice fabric on her skin, it was a nice sensation.

She walked into her old bathroom, showered quickly, then found her old apprentice robes in a closet...

Her eyes went wide and her breath suckered in to see Halion leaning in the back of it, old and forgotten. Antonidas had granted her an improved staff about a year ago if she remembered correctly. She glanced across the room to see that new staff leaning against the wall next to her bed. She slowly shook her head, Halion was her staff now, even if it was a shadow of it's former self. She would make it great again.

She gripped her staff tightly, opened a portal, and stepped through to her homeland. Instantly the cawing of seagulls hit her ears. The waft of sea-air brushing by her nose and through her hair. The sounds of ship in the harbor jostling with the waves. She looked over the harbor of her people, a place she had been banished from for her involvement with her father's death. It felt good to be home.

"Lady Proudmoore!" came a call from one of the port guards, "What a surprise to see you home again, we weren't aware you were coming."

Jaina glanced at the man, knew she ought to remember him, she had once been able to name so many of the people here, but couldn't, so she gave a simple answer without a greeting. "I asked for a day to come back and see my family and my people. It's good to be home. Is father in?"

The guard waved a hand. "The Lord Admiral is going to be inspecting the fleet this upcoming week and then off to meet the other noble houses, going to keep him busy for awhile so he took the last three days off to be with his family."

"I know just where to find him then," said Jaina mischievously, earning a small laugh from the guards.

She strode past, following the echoes in her mind leading down twists and turns and streets towards her family's personal retreat. She smiled as she neared the unassuming cottage, before she suddenly froze, her fist inches from knocking at the door, at the sound of her father's voice, his rich deep laughter echoing out the window. In the span of an instant, horrific guilt blew through her, feeling like she had just been ripped open. Her hand shakily dropped, and she stepped away from the door.

Was she really going to try to ask for his help, after she had stood aside and let him _die_?

She choked a bit, before furiously wiping at her eyes. She... she didn't have time for guilt. She'd fix things this time around, she swore she would. She raised a hand and firmly knocked on the door.

There was a pause as all the sound inside quieted down. The Lord Admiral was not to be disturbed in his days off save for an emergency. So to them, it was either something dire, or an assassin. She could imagine her father holding his old pistol behind his back as he approached the door. Sure enough, when he opened it, Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore had one hand hidden behind his back, ever the prepared soldier and sailor. Even on his days off, he always wore his blue mariner shirt and pants. His graying short graying and large mustache kept groomed properly for his station. His face was serious, showcasing the wrinkles that came with his age, before he sighted her a broke into a warm smile.

"Ah Jaina! Why didn't you send word you were coming?" said her father, stretching his arms out after nestling his pistol into his belt.

She flung herself at him and embraced him in the tightest hug she could. "It's good to see you papa, so good to see you."

The man chuckled and stepped back. "Come in child, we were just starting breakfast."

There was an audible huff from inside. "Is that my daughter? Finally gracing us with her presence and taking time off her studies?"

Jaina turned her head, and sighted her mother. Katherine Proudmoore sat at the other end of the table from her father's seat, the two heads of the household. She bore her maroon silk top and her tan buttoned pants tightened together by a belt. Her coat, not quite the Lord Admiral one she had last time she had seen her, hung behind her chair. Mother was always ready to be on the move. Her graying hair was tied neatly behind her head, and her face, masked with a oh-so fake scowl, glared at her. Jaina knew when she was and wasn't faking ill intent.

For a brief moment, an image of her mother cursing her name for letting her husband die filled her vision, before she banished it. and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry mama, I've been busy. But I've progressed such much lately Master Antonidas agreed to give me a day off."

Katherine flapped a hand, her scowl shifting into a smile. "Oh it's alright dear, we always have a seat ready for you."

"It's good to hear you are applying yourself well my child," said Father, retaking his seat.

Jaina moved for the empty chair before pausing and staring at her younger brother Tandred. "Just starting are we? Brother here has half his face covered in mush."

The young man, dressed similarly to his father, and brown hair and growing mustache neatly trimmed just as well, coughed. "Good to see you too Jaina."

She reached over and ruffled his hair playfully, pulling her hand back just before he could bat it away. She glanced at the table, mouth watering at the sight of delicacies she hadn't tasted in years, already delivered by the family's favored servant.

The questions began as she began to slowly load her place, recalling past customs and proper culinary skills that her brother oh so failed to show. "So, how is that old bat Antonidas."

Jaina raised an eyebrow at her father. "He's fine..."

She paused briefly, considering it as a good lead in to let them know something was amiss, she smoothly gave out a half-truth, "Mostly. He's a bit pensive as of late. Told me he felt that 'something was in the air'. Couldn't get anything more out of him. Probably let me go as to get me to stop pestering him and give him time to think."

In the span of an instant, her father's face changed into that of the Lord Admiral, a hint of a frown showing, his eyes narrowing in calculating thought, before he banished the look. "Hmm. Hopefully it's nothing, but Antonidas's foresight and scrying has served us well in the past."

Not well enough in the third War, not against the Scourge and the Legion. But even he couldn't have guessed what was coming. "Hopefully. I'd like to finally reach the rank of a full Archmage in peace."

"Only in times of strife are we truly tested," countered Daelin.

Didn't she know it...

Mother huffed. "I'd rather our children get through life without a risk this time around."

There was a moment of collective wincing at the not-so-subtle reference to Derek Proudmoore's death. Jaina hadn't had the chance to know her older brother for as long as she would have liked, but, she could always recall him sharing with her what would become her favorite sour goat cheese snack. Though, Dalaran Sharps and sliced apples were a good second.

"All I ever wanted to do was study," said Jaina honestly, softly, and truthfully, "But if something does come along, I'll do my family and kingdom proud."

She would, this time around.

Her father gave her an approving nod, though she did notice the hint of a thoughtful frown on his face. Her father knew her well, he had probably noticed something off in the few minutes they had been together. Breakfast continued with soft banter, questions about her studies, and Jaina pestering them for how things were going here in Kul Tiras. When they finished, as it was proper, she helped clean up and then moved to join her mother. Almost instantly, once she was out of hearing range of the 'boys', her mother dug in about anyone she was seeing.

"What about that elf you mentioned awhile back?" asked Mother.

Jaina froze briefly at the mention of Kael'thas Sunstrider, at the thought of him submitting to the Legion. "He... isn't who I thought he would be. He has a good heart, but if push came to shove, I'm not sure if his morals would stand strong."

Arthas may have done terrible things as well, but he wasn't really himself anymore at that point, everyone having turned their back on him, his soul stolen by that accursed blade...

Katherine frowned briefly, studying her. "He didn't do anything improper, did he? I'll have words with our ambassador from Quel'Thalas if he dared."

Jaina slowly shook his head. "Not to me, no. But he isn't someone I think I'd give my heart to."

"Hmph," said Katherine, returning her focus to the dishes, "Only one you did was that fool boy who crushed your heart and threw it away after getting into your bed."

Jaina gave an outraged squeak. "Mother!"

She turned her head and stared Jaina down. "Am I wrong? You were in **_tears_ ** Jaina when you came home after that festival. If I had my way, _prince_ Arthas would have had his ass whopped for breaking my daughter's heart."

Jaina licked her lips and looked away. "He's young mother, and it was to soon, he wasn't ready."

"Are you giving him an excuse?" said Katherine in disbelief.

Jaina shook her head. "No, he did hurt me, but he didn't mean to. Besides..."

"Forgiveness is part of any relationship," she said softly.

Katherine huffed and shook her head in resignation. "Oh bother, you're **_still_ ** pinning after that boy."

"It's not pinning!" Jaina huffed back.

Katherine turned her head, raised an eyebrow, and gave her a bemused look as if to say 'are you really trying to argue with me about this?'.

Jaina rolled her eyes and helped her finish the dishes. When they finished, they moved to the back porch of the cottage, watching her father and brother stretch themselves and warm up for a spar. Oh how she had missed this, being together with her family in a relaxing day off. She hadn't... she hadn't had _anything_ like this in years. Eating crumpets and sharps in New Dalaran with the other Archmages she barely knew wasn't comparable to an afternoon in Theramore, let alone _this_. It almost brought her to tears to see it.

They day passed far to quickly for her tastes. Between weaving with her mother, stern advice from her father to both her and her brother, and 'adventuring' in the woods with her brother like that had when they were younger, but it all came to a close all to soon. It was a breath of fresh air, and a memory she would hold and treasure in the darkness that was to come. However, as she strode to her room to retire for the night, her father pulled her aside and beckoned her to his study. Mother was there, leaning against the wall, studying her intently.

Jaina glanced back and forth between her and father, a little confused. "Is something wrong?"

"Jaina, you didn't come home to spend time with us," said Daelin slowly, carefully, "You've enjoyed it, but I saw you my child, I know you. You were watching things that are daily occurrences as if they were priceless treasures. And I wasn't born yesterday, that not-so-subtle hint you dropped at breakfast had been weighing on my mind all day."

Jaina gulped dryly and licked her lips. They were her parents, of course they would notice something off. She had hoped to wait till the morning to compose herself and think of a way to warn them.

Katherine pushed off the wall and walked forward, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "My daughter, what is it?"

"Mama, papa," she began, "There's something coming. Something awful, something _dark_."

Her father's stance changed to that of the Lord Admiral, a deep scowl on his face. "I had heard the Orcs were escaping the prison camps. What else have they done? What are they planning?"

Always the orcs with him, she shook her head. "Papa, you haven't heard? The Orcs ran. They fled across the sea, they felt what was coming, and they _ran_."

Daelin's eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't respond.

"You have to be ready father, Kul Tiras has to be ready for whats coming," she whispered, and for a moment, she let her guard down, let her eyes show her years of hardship and pain, enough to make her father grow very still, and spoke with a mixture of dread and finality, "Death itself comes from the Cold North, and behind it looms a burning shadow. If it's not stopped, it will consume us all. Pay attention to what rumors you hear about Northern Lordaeron, and if the King Teranas or Prince Arthas ask your aid, give it. If all else fails, across the seas, to Kalimdor, is our last chance."

"Jaina," whispered her father, "What is going on?"

She couldn't answer, she had given her warning. She slowly shook her head, turned and walked out the door.

Before she left down the hall, she faintly heard her mother hiss. "Did you see that? It was as if for an instant she aged a decade. No eyes of a child of mine should look like that. Something's wrong Daelin, something's terribly wrong."

Jaina smiled sadly, hopeful her warning would be heard, before she retired to her room for the night...


	3. Plans and the Prophet

Jaina didn't stay for breakfast, she didn't even say goodbye. Minutes after waking in yet another bed she hadn't slept in for so achingly long, she opened a portal back to her room in Dalaran. She had did what she went there to do, she couldn't afford to get caught up with her family today, as much as she wanted to. Today was the day Mediev appeared to Antonidas. If she remembered correctly, it would happen shortly after midday lunch, after her Master finished and was on his way back to his study. That was a point where she could perhaps drastically change things.

Maybe.

But should she? And how would she even do so if she wanted to? To Antonidas he was but a mad prophet, one already dismissed by the King and who knows who else. Heck, if she had to guess, Mediev had probably tried to warn Quel'Thalas as well, only to be rebuffed. How would she convince the Archmage to heed him? What would be the consequences if she did?

The thought of Dalaran floating above the World Tree in the Battle for Mount Hyjal amusingly filled her mind. That would be one hell of a change in their favor if things went poorly. Except, the spell to float Dalaran hadn't even been crafted yet, nor did she know just what spell they used to do so. And even _IF_ Dalaran was convinced to flee, that would leave Lordaeran to the full might of the Scourge and Legion without the aid of the Archmagi. She doubted the King would even consider fleeing unless half of the Kingdom had already fallen to undeath.

Jaina conjured a box of biscuits and a glass of water, sitting down on her bed for a light breakfast. She hadn't really sat down and contemplating how to honestly go about changing the future. Her parents and Kul'Tiras had been a spur of the moment idea that would hopefully have long term benefits. Now she needed to get down to the nitty gritty and actually plan things out. Because she was most likely behind Tichondrious in that regard, the demon had come to her after all. He would have had the chance to consider things long in advance.

She somewhat doubted she could change the meeting with Antonidas that much, so after that was the hell that began it all. The Scourge of Lordaeron. First and foremost...

She let out a cruel, savage grin. "Kel'Thuzzad, you're corpse is getting burned to ashes this time. Why we let you rot and have a chance to be reborn last time is beyond me. That _won't_ happen this time."

Wiping out the would-be-Lich would already drastically change things. The Lich had been the Summoner, the one who heralded in the Legion. Without him, they would need someone else of considerable magical power to summon Archimonde. Not that they could even do so without getting the Book of Medeiv and breaking through Dalaran. But still, Objective One: Destroy Kel'Thuzzad and leave nothing to reanimate.

What would be next... the Battle for Hearthglen. She had missed it, obeying Arthas to leave and get aid. When she had come back, something had changed in Arthas, something had gone _wrong_. She was not going to leave her Prince this time, no matter what he ordered. She could just as easily summon a construct, a messenger, and send it in her stead. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Why hadn't Arthas? He had been around in her early training days when she had been practicing such things, he should know she could do it. So why...

Oh...

Because there was an army of Undead coming for them, and he wanted her out of harms way, to safety. _Oh Arthas..._

She sighed softly. Back then, she had been so tired and exhausted from that mission, she probably would have gotten herself killed if she had stayed. This time though, she would be there for him. Hearthglen had been the Prince's first true horrific test against an actual army of the damned. He had triumphed in the end, but it had left him raw, unstable, cracked. What he had done at Strathlome, what he had suggested, the Purge, had been so unlike her Prince. To just turn on Uther like that... not that the Paladin had made any attempt to be understanding and try to really talk Arthas down. Hell, even knocking him out so cooler heads could prevail would have been the better option!

Not turn on him!

Not walk away!

Not abandon him!

Not leave him to his dark fate!

Like she had done as well...

Jaina took a ragged breath and shook her head. "Strathlome..."

What were the chances that would stay the same? What was the chance any of this would stay the same considering Tichondrious could change things? No, he had said he'd have to be subtle... not to mention, she had learned, through the interrogations of the Cult of the Damned by the Argent Dawn, that the Lich King had chosen Arthas as his host a long time ago. He had been singled out for this cruel fate and driven to it. That would stay the same, hell, the Demon would probably want to make it stay the same to keep her busy and focused while he concentrated on other matters, if he could.

But that was a thought for another time, if she did at all. She did not understand demonic thinking. She could not out-plan him. Her aim wasn't even necessarily to counter Tichondrious. She might not even have to save for the obvious of stopping the Legion from winning and making sure Sargaras never stepped foot in Azeroth. She had her goals, he had his own, and she only really had two of them...

Obviously, Goal One: Save Arthas.

She would accept nothing else. She would NOT allow him to be damned.

Goal Two: Preserve her family, _not_ turn on them, not even for Thrall, not this time. Thrall had abandoned his duty, to control the Horde and keep his savage brethren in line.

That... that honestly was it. She didn't care for being an Archmage as a job or a position, nor wealth, nor fame, nor even world peace. Let the Horde and the Alliance kill themselves in endless war for all she cared. All she wanted was those she personally cared for safe. She had given so much for so many people last time around, and had nothing to show for it by the end, just pain and loss and sorrow. This time, she was doing this for herself, for Arthas, for her family.

Now where was she... Strathlome, right, she needed to plan for Strathlome, and for the worst possible scenario. She wouldn't walk away this time, so if push came to shove, if Arthas could not be convinced against a purge... she'd stand with him this time. She had already killed an entire timeline, what was a city's worth of innocent civilians?

She closed her eyes and let out a soft sob. "Damn that demon..."

Even if she had known in advance, rather than making a selfish split second decision. Would she have still done it? She didn't know... she really didn't...

She shook her head and shoved the thought as deeply down as she could. She couldn't afford to even acknowledge it, give the horrific guilt a split second of attention, lest it destroy her. She'd do what she had to do, and damn the consequences. She'd purge Strathlome alongside her prince if she had to, but she'd try to convince him otherwise, if but to save him the guilt later on. She'd be his conscience, and his shield, his guiding hand, as much as she needed to.

And she needed to make sure Arthas didn't step foot on Northrend. He **_COULD NOT_** go anywhere near Frostmourne. That damn soul sucking abominable blade. It wouldn't have his soul! Not this time! Oh if only she could just destroy the thing... wait a second...

She opened her eyes and stared down at her hand in thought. The blade grew in power as it absorbed souls. Currently, it had no souls, to her knowledge. It wasn't a fraction as powerful as the Frostmourne the Ashbringer had destroyed... could she destroy it herself with her power? She contemplated the idea for a moment, before shelving it. She'd try it if it came down to it, but she had no guarantees, because she wasn't close to as powerful as she had been in the future either. Regardless she still didn't want her Prince anywhere near it.

She finished her water and biscuits before dismissing them with a puff of magic and laying back on her bed to think. Should she keep trying to plan? If-no- ** _without_** Arthas as the Lich King's Death Knight and future host, so many things would change. Trying to plan for things that may or may not happen in the future, and trying to predict things that hadn't happened before, would get her lost in her head for hours. Not to mention there was no guarantee anything she thought up would even come to pass. She had plans for up to Strathlome, and for now, that was good enough. She'd have to wait and see what happened afterwards.

Jaina rose to her feet and went to her closet, grabbing a new change of clothes before moving to the bathroom. For now, bath, afterwords, perhaps she would enjoy a stroll through the Dalaran of old, _her_ Dalaran. Then, the Prophet. She stripped down and paused before the mirror, taking a moment to do something she hadn't yesterday: marvel at her reflection. Not a single stressed wrinkle in sight. No darkened bags under her eyes. Her hair was pure again, not a single mana-bombed bleached white strand in sight. She hadn't really thought of beauty in a long time, hadn't touched makeup since before the Scourge of Lordaeran, but damn, this was something so many middle-aged and older woman often dreamed about, having their younger body back. Men to probably, because those joints she was starting to feel popping and aching had been irritating...

"Oh it's good to be young again," she mused, "Being in my forties probably wouldn't have been that bad without all the stress and old injuries."

Jaina decided to skip a quick shower this time, moving to the tub, filling it with water, and sliding into the nice warm bath. Light, when was the last time she had a chance to just soak? Not hop in for a five-minute wash-down? There had simply been _no time_ at any point in what felt like decades. There was always some demand for her attention, or she simply didn't think she could afford to soak around for half an hour. Well, time to make up for lost time!

"Mmm," was all Jaina could mumble, sliding down to her neck and closing her eyes...

...and flailing when she came to sometime later, her head going underwater. She coughed a few times and stood up, conjuring a towel as she left the tub. Okay, drowning while sleeping in the tub was not how she wanted her second run in life to go. Oh wait! How long was she out? She scrambled for her clothes, left the bathroom, and glanced at a clock, silently cursing to herself. They would be meeting soon. She left the room in a rush, making for the Violet Gardens.

She came across Antonidas scowling down at the Prophet, this time much earlier in the conversation than before. "I know of you, shapshifter, madman. What tales of woe do you come to tell to me today?"

Medivh had resignation in his eyes. "The tides of darkness come again for this world..."

Antonidas sighed. "I have no time for this rambling..."

"...and the whole world is poised upon the brink of war!" continued Medivh, ignoring the interruption, "The only salvation for the magi of Dalaran is to the west, across the sea, to Kalimdor."

"I believe the King gave you the same answer I will," stated Antonidas calmly.

"You must be wiser than the king!" countered Medivh.

"I told you before. I'm not interested in this nonesense!" thundered Antonidas back, irritation coating his voice.

"Then I've wasted my time here," muttered Medivh, green shapeshifting energy starting to coat his body.

"Perhaps," rang out Jaina's voice, causing the former Guardian to pause, "A bit more specifics would do your cause more justice."

Antonidas turned to her, a light scowl on his face. "Jaina, please don't prod him on."

Jaina gave him a tight smile, a hint of warning in her eyes that had the elder Archmage taken aback, before striding forward, her staff thumping against the ground, until she stood a few steps from Medivh. "Darkness and War is something Lordaeron has faced before. Even if we believe your warnings, why would we flee and not fight? What is so terrible about what is to come?"

She stared at him, her eyes challenging him to explain more. He _**SHOULD** _ have explained more. Should have revealed who he truely was. Then he might have been believe. But nooooo, he gave some half-assed ramblings and expected to be listened to? She had only listened after the Scourge had all but decimated Lordaeron.

Medivh stared at her silently, his cowl unmoving, his eyes fixed on hers, his mouth strong set.

"Well?" she asked.

"When many think of darkness," began Medivh slowly, "They foolishly think of the cold dark, or perhaps the dead of night, trapped in utter darkness, the void. While these are things to fear, they are not the most dangerous. When I think of darkness, I think of a Great Burning Shadow, the flames that flicker and reveal that which comes to consume us all."

Antonidas scoffed. "Which means what exactly?"

It meant the Burning Legion, but of course he wasn't going to come out and say that. Jaina slowly began to circle the Prophet, her staff plunking the ground in even pacing. "That which burns can be drenched with water, that which hides in darkness can be revealed and banished with light."

A wry smile crossed the former Guardian's face. "Perhaps, but some shadows burn and reside so deeply in darkness, that only the greatest of lights can touch them. Do you think such power resides here in Lordaeron? The power to banish perhaps one of the greatest of shadows?"

Archimonde.

And no.

Probably not.

For the sake of arguing though. "Lord Uther is one of the greatest servants of the light alive, along with so many of the Silver Hand scattered through Lordaeron. I'd dare to say the gathered light could banish whatever darkness you speak of."

There was a sad look in his eyes. "No, they could not."

She wondered if the Ashbringer could make a dent on Archimonde, but it hadn't even been made before the Battle for Mount Hyjal. "Then perhaps the shadow could be held back by the Light, never allowed to fall."

Medivh slowly shook his head. "Whether it be now or later, the shadow will fall across Lordaeron. The longer you wait, the more that shall be consumed in it's wake."

So basically, even if she stopped the invasion, they'd come again anyway. Whether in her lifetime or further down...

Jaina frowned and stopped circling. The Legion was **_beaten_ ** in her time. If she delayed their arrival till after she died of old age, after so many of the world's champions passed on, then what were the chances they would be destroyed this time around? Would she just be leaving a grim fate and destiny to her children? _(She did want some after all)_

Could she condemn them to that?

No, she couldn't force that on her descendants. So perhaps... perhaps the Legion _**DID** _ have to be summoned, so they could be defeated.

She turned to face Medivh and attempted to goad and answer out of him again. "So you want us to gather ourselves while we are at our strongest and flee. Ignoring how little sense that makes, why to Kalimdor? What resides over there?"

Green energy began to circle the Prophet. "The power to banish the shadow."

With that, he turned into a crow and flew away. Jaina scowled at him, not nearly satisfied, and not nearly done arguing. Coward.

Antonidas sighed. "I don't know why you entertained that fool."

"There's something strange about him master," said Jaina, turning to face him, "He's far more than he appears, I feel that there is some truth in his words."

Antonidas pulled on his beard, lost in thought. "Hmm."

He moved to stand next to her, his staff activating and teleporting them to an overlook, a pair of sorceresses training below them, but this time kept her silence, waiting for him to speak.

Antonidas sighed. "Even if there is an ounce of truth in what he says, what would you expect me to do? Abruptly flee Dalaran across the see on the words of a apparent madman?"

"No," said Jaina softly, "No, but, keep your eyes and ears open, and be ready to act, whether to fight or to flee. Something is coming, we've both felt it. This 'madman' is just another symptom of it."

Antonidas slowly nodded, glancing at her. "You've grown up Jaina, you show so much more wisdom than I ever recalled seeing from you before."

Jaina smiled softly. Experience was the greatest teacher. That and future knowledge.

"Perhaps the Plague spreading through the Northlands is another symptom as well," said Antonidas.

Jaina held back her nerves. This was it. The beginning. "Oh?"

"There is reason to believe it is magical in nature," said Antonidas gravely, "I have need of you to investigate this plague as a representative of Dalaran. I have arrange for a... special envoy to assist you. You will set out at the end of the week."

Jaina nodded. "I wont let you down."

"I know you wont child," said Antonidas fondly, before he waved his staff and teleported away.

Jaina gazed out over Dalaran silently. One of her more cherished homes, she had the awful feeling it was going to fall again, no matter what she did. She turned away and began walking through the Violet City, letting it soak once more into her eyes, ears, and soul. She passed through the gardens, taking time to sit and enjoy them again, before returning to her room. She walked in, closed the door behind her...

"Is this time everything you remembered it to be?" came a soft voice.

Jaina's head snapped towards the window, sighting Medivh leaning against the wall next to it. "You... you know? How do you..."

Medivh stared at her silently for a moment. "Because you used my spell. As someone who has gone through it before, I can recognize it's lingering effects."

Jainai's eyes went wide. "You've gone back in time with it?"

Medivh gave her a sad smile. "Many times. Each time I have failed. The more direct the hand I have in fate, the worse the outcome."

Jaina frowned. "Why? The power of a former Guardian would be of great help."

"I was the host to Sargaras once, as such, I am still susceptible to demonic energy and influence," confessed Medivh, "The first time, I tried to confront Archimonde head on, and I was made a thrall to the Legion once more. If not for the sacrifice of a certain young female archmage, I would have remained his slave as he burned creation asunder."

Jaina blinked a few times. "That archmage was me?"

Medivh nodded. "Indeed. In so many a time that I have watched over, you have always had a great impact, one way or another. I'm curious, why is it that you are the one to revert time, and not I?"

Jaina was silent for a moment before offering a quiet, "I lost everything."

"I see," mused Medivh before pushing off the wall and moving to stand in front of her. "Be careful Lady Proudmoore, in how you handle the events to come. I have seen you a champion of both the Light and the Darkness, whether it be the Cold Dark or the Burning Shadow."

Jaina stiffened. "I would never serve the Scourge or the Legion!"

"Wouldn't you?" countered Medivh, "If you followed your Prince to Northrend, and fell along with him? Or if he asked you to join him? Or if the Legion offered you a way to get him back after he died?"

Jaina flinched at that last one. "I..."

Medivh narrowed his eyes. "Why did that gather a reaction?"

"I... made a pact with a demon," she admitted, "Both myself and the Dreadlord Tichondrious came back in time."

Medivh said nothing for a solid minute, staring at her, before shaking his head. "The Legion lost, didn't it, in your time? But it came at a price of everything you held dear. The Demon preyed upon your pain and desires, to give the Burning Shadow another chance to consume us all."

Jaina remained silent, a bit stunned. He had figured it out with negligible ease.

Medivh sighed softly. "Mortal folly has been a boon and a curse to existence for as long as they have existed. Tread carefully Proudmoore, lest you doom us all. And go nowhere near the Bronze Dragonflight if you are able. They will detect the way time moves around you."

"There is no guarantee I can avoid them forever," said Jaina.

"Then you should prepare yourself to one day face Nozdormu's wrath," warned Medivh, turning and moving to the window.

"Is there a way I can hide it?" she asked.

Medivh slowly shook his head. "I don't know, I've never bothered. If there is, you will have to find it on your own. But running from your sins only delays the inevitable."

"Is that coming from experience?" she dared.

Medivh laughed. "Yes, yes it is."

With that, he turned into a crow and flew out the window, leaving Jaina behind to brood about what was to come...


	4. Arthas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'll mix and match Arthas: Rise of the Lich King (book) and the Warcraft III campaign as parts allow for a more creative/interesting approach.

"Me Smash You!"

Not likely.

Jaina stared at the pair of ogres, amused. When was the last time that a pair of dumb brutes had been the worst of her worries? Not since she had been here originally. She pointed a finger and unleashed a bolt of lightning, putting a crispy hole right through one of the ogre's chests. The other gave a startled cry and turned to run. But Jaina had run out of mercy for her enemies a long time ago. Another bolt of lightning dropped the second ogre a moment later. She waved a hand and ignited both their corpses, burning them to cut off two potential slaves for the Scourge.

Really, she was doing them a kindness.

She kept going, walking down the pathway, her heartbeat starting to pick up. She had mere minutes to go before she laid her eyes upon her prince again. A prince untainted by suffering and darkness and death. One step after another, she walked down the path, taking in the sight of Lordaeran in all it's former glory, it's trees and land not blighted. No corpses or body parts littering the ground. No signs of warfare, of toppled trees, explosive scorches, upended earth. She paused briefly to kneel down and pluck a flower, bringing it up to smell nature in a way she hadn't seen in so long. It was life... as it should be.

Before the endless wars between the Alliance and the Horde. Before the servants of the Old Gods, the Twilight Cult, washed over the land. Before the Cataclysm and Deathwing's madness. Before the Burning Legion torched their way to the World Tree. Before the Scourge...

On her life, she would stop as much of it as she could.

She clenched her hands tightly, accidentally crushing the flower, before scoffing to herself and brushing it off. She'd have to see if she could stop the Scourge before she could even think about stopping any other issues. Though, sending a familiar to tell the Dragonflights that Deathwing was hiding in Deapholm might be an easy fix for that particular problem, not to mention get them out of the way for awhile while they fought eachother.

She banished her thoughts as she rounded a hauntingly familiar band of trees, and then... down the road... sitting by a campfire, were two footmen... and _him_.

Her prince.

She took in the sight of him, majestically long blonde hair for a man. His blue eyes shining with mirth as he and the men joked with one another. He bore his blue clothed and gold/silver plate armor with pride. A holy book hung on chains tucked to his chest. He gripped his warhammer, Light's Vengeance, lightly in his hand. She felt him with her senses; strong, prideful, light, oh pure blessed light, and... yet... a shadow hid behind him. The potential was always there, wasn't it? For Arthas to fall, regardless of it being Scourge or something else. She wouldn't let any of them take him, not this ti-

His eyes flickered in her direction, laying upon her, a wry smile spreading across his face, and...

And...

She froze up.

An image played across her mind, of the last time she had met her prince. In the Frozen Halls of Icecrown Citadel. Of him trying to _kill her_ , feeling Frostmourne rake across her body, wounding her, trying to rip her soul from her mortal prison. The sensation of darkness and hate pressing against her. Of fighting him head on hopelessly, the despair of realizing she couldn't draw her prince out of that darkness, that she had been to late. The feeling of death stalking her as she and the Heroes of Azeroth had fled. The sheer terror of her former love hunting her...

She felt her face pale, her breath grow short, and she reflexively took a step back as Arthas started forward. Her prince paused at that, concern in his eyes, he held a hand out towards his footmen for them to remain where they were. He approached slowly, weapon held down to the side none-threateningly.

"Jaina?" he asked softly.

Oh... his voice... without that dark echo of the Lich King behind it. It was divine music to her ears, almost enough to break her freeze. But, when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.

They stood there, a few feet from another for a minute, before Arthas sighed softly, regret in his voice, "I'm sorry about the Winter Veil Jaina, I shouldn't have hurt you like that."

Jaina blinked a few times. Winter Veil...?

A memory danced across her vision for a moment. Of a night spent making love to her prince. Then of panic and unbelievable hurt, when he backpedaled, so young and scared, when she had mentioned the prospect of children. After a night spent in bed, he had backed away.

_"Can't you understand me now? Can't we still be friends?"_

Jaina couldn't keep the flash of pain of her face. Friends? After a night of sex when he had told her he was ready to take their relationship to the next level? She had almost forgotten, pushing that to the back of her mind when she remembered her prince, trying to become lost in the memories of the 'good times'.

She licked her lips and averted her gaze away from him, focusing on his troops. "We... shouldn't keep your troops waiting Arthas, we have a plague to investigate."

There was the slightest of winces from him. "Right, of course."

This wasn't what she had wanted when she found him again... she hadn't wanted such an awful start. Yet... as they walked side by side, she couldn't help but keep one eye loosely held on her prince. For all she wanted him back, they had been enemies the last time they had met, trying to fight and kill one another. She...

She had no trust for her prince...

But it was stupid, he hadn't done anything yet!

Yet the trickle of apprehension and fear crawling down her spine.

He had hurt her before, both before and after he had become a Death Knight...

She forcefully adjusted her focus, looking over the two men waiting for them. They were vaguely familiar to her...

"Falric and Marwyn, right?" she asked, suppressing a twitch to shy away from them.

They had become Death Knights as well... she was surrounded by people with the potential to slaughter billions...

The was an air of surprise about them, Falric offered a baffled, "I'm surprise you remember us M'lady."

She gave a tight smile. "Considering the time Arthas and I used to spend together, I remember my prince's shadows."

There was a spike of regret and shame from her Prince before he cleared his throat. "Well, gentlemen, may I reintroduce Miss Jaina Proudmoore, special agent of the Kirin Tor..."

He gave her a grin. "...and one of the most talented sorceresses in the land."

"Hmm," mused Jaina, downplaying herself, "Considering I'm still just an apprentice, that remains to be seen."

"I don't know Jaina," teased Arthas lightly, "I doubt you've lost your touch."

His voice grew soft. "It is good to see you again Jaina."

Her heart pulsed warmly at that.

"It's... good to see you again, Arthas," she said, far to much hesitation in her voice for her own liking.

Light, what was wrong with her? She had stared down Archimonde with more bravery and control then she did Arthas.

There was a moment of awkwardness before she started walking. "My master's sources believe the Plague originated in the region north of here. We should check the villages along the king's road."

"Right," said Arthas, jogging briefly to catch up, "Let's get a move on."

They walked for several hours in uncomfortable silence, with Jaina oddly taking the lead. She just... she had wanted to see her Prince again so badly, but now that she had, she didn't, couldn't bear to look upon him. It was the most frustrating thing in the world to her, to be so conflicted.

"My prince, forgive me if I speak out of turn," she faintly heard one of the captains whisper, "But is something wrong? Between the two of you? Last I knew you two were inseparable when your duties did not take you apart. You've barely spoken to her since we set out."

Arthas sighed quietly. "I screwed up captain, that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

"Ah," was the reply, "I've been there before with my misses M'lord, it's not a comfortable spot to be in."

Arthas snorted. "No, it isn't."

Like before, they made camp before dusk, a few hours out from the first village. Unlike last time, when the liqueur came out, she didn't partake in any merrymaking. In hindsight, she had to wonder why they brought alcohol out on a mission. A man thing?

Definitely.

Not to mention, while they hadn't been attacked last time until they discovered the undead firsthand, she would take no chances of her senses being dulled. She slept lightly, and awoke suddenly, when she heard footfalls quietly coming her way. She stretched out with her sense, it was Arthas. He had come to her before on this night, hadn't he? She could remember that.

"You should get some sleep Arthas," she said quietly as the man knelt down next to her, hand reaching out to brush the hair from her face.

He paused, and his hand fell to the ground. "I... when this is all over, maybe we can... talk. You know?"

"Talk," she said slowly, "About what you did to me at the Winter Veil?"

Not even touching upon what he had done in her time.

There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence from him for a moment. "I'm sorry Jaina, I thought I was ready, but I wasn't. I was young and stupid, I feel that I took advantage of you, and I regret that, deeply. I've missed you, felt incomplete without you."

Jaina sighed. "I was never able to deny you anything Arthas, but that was then, this is now. You hurt me..."

Back then and afterwards, so many times. She couldn't deny that, when her body shied so readily away from him despite her mind's desire.

"...badly. If you truly want to make things right, then show me how much you care," she said, "Starting with the care for your people during this mission."

Arthas frowned, hurt in his voice. "You doubt that I care for the well-being of my people?"

"No, that's not what I meant," she said, "I simply want you to show me again the boy, the young man, the man, that I had fallen in love with. Show me he's still there, and show me how he's grown."

There was something almost shy in his smile as he replied. "I will Jaina, I swear I will. If I must start from the beginning again to win your heart back then so be it I will. I won't give you a reason to doubt me again."

"I hope so Arthas, I hope so," she said softly, yet with a desperate yearning.

Unlike last time, there was no passionate kiss followed by sharing a blanket, he simply squeezed her hand and said before he left, "Good night Jaina, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight Arthas," she whispered back.

* * *

The next morning saw them approach the first village, a woman working a field at the first farm saw them and moved forward.

"Prince Arthas! There's something amiss at the bridge ahead," she said warily.

There was a furrowing of Arthas's eyes before he nodded. "Thank you ma'am, we'll look into it."

Jaina's stomach started to plummet. Less than an hour to go... less than an hour till she laid her eyes on the beginning of the end. Oh Light... she could hardly keep the tremor in her hands at bay. She had faced the Scourge and the Legion so many times, why was this so difficult for her?

"Look! It's Prince Arthas," came a few awed but hushed voices as they moved further into the village.

She had missed that, hearing people speak well of Arthas, not condemning him.

Arthas took point, and approached a destroyed bridge connecting the outer and inner parts of the town, one of the civilians gathered around it walked up to the prince, "Milord, someone has destroyed the bridge from the far side of the river! There is another way to cross, but it is not as safe as it used to be."

Arthas nodded slowly. "Do you have any idea why?"

The man hesitated. "We had heard last night that some of the people had grown ill, but why they would not come to us for help rather than blow the bridge is... odd."

"Very well," said Arthas, "Can you give me directions to the alternate path?"

The man did so, and with that, they were off.

Jaina had forgotten something about the first village, and it wasn't until the screams and cries of 'Bandits!' that she remembered the first trouble they had come across. Not the undead, but criminals murdering innocents to plunder their village.

"Slaughter them all! Sack the town!"

"Save us!"

Jainai's vision tinted red for a moment. Absolute scum! The Scourge were right around the corner and these bastards were doing this?! She saw a bandit kick a man to the ground and raise an axe to swing it down; but before he could, Jaina unleashed a bolt of lighting, streaking across the field, over the head of the fleeing civilians, and slamming into the bandit in question.

"Defend the town!" cried out Arthas, "Falric, Marwyn, get the civilians to safety!"

Arthas charged forward fearlessly, placing himself between the bandits and the townsfolk, his hammer swinging heavily, sending bandits flying or crushing them into the ground. She paused briefly to admire the man she had loved, as he stood for the light and in defense of the innocent, before she ruthlessly joined the fight. Fireballs flew from her hand, igniting bandits and sending them screaming from the battle. She didn't let a single one of them escape. A few minutes later it was done, the attack thwarted, and unlike last time, not a single civilian casualty taken. She took pride in having changed so simple a thing.

Arthas however was staring at her, eyebrows raised.

"What?" she asked.

"I think I was wrong," said Arthas, "You haven't lost your touch, you're even better than I remember."

Jaina couldn't help but grin. "Well, you did say I had studying to do when last we met."

There was a wince from him before he put on a fake grin. "Glad to see you took your studies and training seriously."

One of the villagers approached them, gratefulness in her eyes. "Oh thank you so much! We brought together a small reward for you."

A small bag of potions was handed over, with Arthas nodding gratefully. "It was our duty ma'am."

"But...," said Jaina, "You might want to consider evacuating."

There was a startlement, from both the village and from Arthas; the villager asked, "E-evacuate?"

"With bandits on the prowl, and a plague spreading from the north, I don't think it's safe to stay here," explained Jaina, desiring to save more lives, for she doubted these people had lasted long once the Plague truly got underway, "It is your choice, but it would be safer if you all packed your things.

There was reluctant looks on many people's faces, though some people looked like they agreed. "We'll take your words under advisement."

"That's all I can ask," said Jaina, turning and striding away.

Arthas moved quickly to walk back her side. "You truly think they'll be in danger? That we can't handle this... plague?"

"We know nothing about it," Jaina smoothly lied before diverting, "And the village would have been sacked if we hadn't been here. I'd err on the side of caution. Lives are not as easily replaced as homes and belongings are."

Arthas nodded thoughtfully before smiling at her. "My people are lucky to have your thoughts and concern."

Jaina turned her reddening face away. "Y-your to kind Arthas."

"Mmm, more bashful than I remember," teased Arthas.

More like it had been ages since anyone had been happy to be in her presence, who had offered and meant so kind a word.

They moved through a murloc infested side-route, and came upon the Banit's camp, putting down the beasts and animals. Instead of moving on though, Jaina took a moment to burn the corpses, drawing a curious look from Arthas.

"If there is a plague spreading, leaving corpses behind to become vectors of contagion seems like an ill idea," said Jaina.

Arthas nodded thoughtfully once more before grinning. "A good idea. Damn, you're putting me to shame."

"Isn't that our usual roles?" said Jaina lightly, "Brawn and brains?"

Arthas laughed and started moving again. "What would I do without you Jaina?"

She considered herself lucky that he didn't see her face pale and a shake go down her arm. What would he do without her indeed?

_Death... betrayal..._

She shook her head and started walking after him, the footmen taking up the rear. They moved out of the side path and up onto a farm. Dread wormed its way up to her stomach as she laid her eyes on a dreadfully familiar looking farm. This was it...

"Alright, lets see if the farmers here have any clue why the bridge is out," said Arthas, making for the farm.

"Arthas, wait!" she called out, "The gates broken and the livestock are gone."

Arthas came to an immediate stop, his head swerving first to her then to the objects in question. Slowly, he brought his warhammer to a two-handed grip, the footmen drawing their swords and coming to a ready.

"Bandits you think?" said Arthas, "The farms not that far from their camp."

"I don't know," said Jaina, a tingling sensation crawling down her spine, she had become so used to fighting against demons and the damned that the presence of necrotic magic became like a sixth sense to her, "Something feels wrong."

Arthas waved them back and approached the gate, his voice booming, "Geetings to you all!" I am Arthas, prince of Lordaeran, and my men and I mean you no harm. Please, come out and speak with us, we have questions concerning your saftey."

Nothing, utter silence aside from the wind beginning to pick up.

"No ones here," murmured Arthas.

"Could be they are all sick milord," offered Falric.

Arthas nodded. "Perhaps. Come on."

He paused when Jaina strode forward, "No, you stay here."

Jaina frowned, had he done this last time too? "Arthas, I'm not fragile nor am I defenseless. If you cant respect that, then you have a long way to go."

Arthas winced at that. "Right, I'm sorry, just... never-mind, lets go."

The wind shifted before they could take a few more steps, and the sickly horrific stench of undeath washed over them. Arthas staggered away, gagging, one of his bodyguards peeled off their helmet and heaved. Jaina steeled herself and flapped a hand in front of her to banish the unfortunately familiar smell. Moments later, squishy liquid horrific cries filled the air as zombies started pouring out of the house and the surrounding woodland. Arthas's hammer began to glow with light, reacting to the presence of the foul dark.

The Undead.

The Scourge.

Hate coursed through Jaina's veins like liquid fire.

"Defend yourselves!" Jaina cried out, aiming her staff forward and sending a fireball crashing into the zombie approaching Arthas with pitchfork raised.

It was over as quickly as it begun. Zombies were the weakest of the Scourge's minions, and unfortunately only the beginning.

Arthas nudged a corpse with his hammer, an ill look on his face before he turned to Jaina. "What... is this?"

"Undead," she said quietly, "They are Undead."

"Light preserve us," whispered Falric, "I thought these things were just stories to scare children."

Jaina merely shook her head. "No, they're real."

"You... don't seem surprised?" asked Arthas, confusion on his face.

Jaina frowned briefly, trying to work over how to lie about her lack of surprise, before the answer hit her and also helped to direct Arthas's anger. "Years ago, early on in my apprenticeship, there was an Archmage by the name of Kel'Thuzzad. He was experimenting with necromancy by reanimating dead rats. Antonidas had his experiments destroyed, and Kel'Thuzzad thrown out of Dalaran."

She paused briefly before lying, "I had the misfortune of examining his handiwork at the time as a lesson of lines to never cross. This however is... a big step up from rats."

Arthas nodded slowly before that oh so familiar flash of wrath filled his eyes. "This _Kel'Thuzzad_ , do you think it's his doing?"

Not entirely, but he was a large part of the problem. "I hope not, he's not a person to be trifled with lightly and... wait, what's that?"

She redirected their attention to the granary at the far end of the town. Arthas frowned and walked towards it, pausing to look at the ground around the granary. "What in the hell..."

Jaina knelt down inches from the blighted ground, staring at the taint grimly, hatefully.

"Jaina, what is that?" asked Arthas warily.

"Its like a blight," said Jaina slowly, "The Land itself seems dead or dying, tainted."

Arthas glanced up at the granary with a frown. "This undeath... Jaina, we're investigating a plague, could it be...?"

"There's a high chance of it," she said quietly.

Arthas swore quietly before asking, "Could the grain itself be plagued?"

Jaina said nothing, and instead, ignited her hand with magical fire before slamming it into the blighted ground. The entire area went up in flames, burning the sickness out of the ground and torching the granary.

"Well, that's one way to get rid of it," mused Arthas before growing serious, "Jaina, do you think I'm right?"

"The grain is most likely infected, yes," said Jaina quietly, "Which means, considering the regional seal I saw on the grain boxes, that Andorhal has fallen to this madness, which means we have no clue just how far spread this taint is."

She stood and swirled a glowing hand in the air, summoning a familiar, a black raven. "Give me your book for a moment, I need to send a message to my master."

Arthas grimly nodded and handed it over. She conjured a paper and quill pen, using the Paladin's book for support, and wrote a quick message of warning for Antonidas. She rolled up the parchment and handed it off to the familiar. "Bring it to master Antonidas with due haste, as swiftly as you can."

They weren't doing this alone, not like last time. She watched the raven fly away before creating a second familiar.

"We should send something to Lord Uther as well," said Jaina.

Arthas frowned. "But... this is our mission, we can handle..."

"Arthas," she said sharply, pointing her staff at the ignited granary, "If this is as bad as we think it is, then it needs to be contained as swiftly as possible. A Plague of Undeath could _destroy_ Lordaeran."

Arthas paled. "You... truly think it will be that bad?"

"We can take no risks," she said.

Arthas nodded and took an offered quill pen and paper and his book back. "I'll let Uther know our findings and to ready his men incase we need him."

Jaina agreed quietly. Valuable time had been wasted in getting back to Hearthglen when she had teleported to get help waiting for the army to arm and gather. The moment the second raven was gone Jaina aimed a hand and began levitating the corpse of the Scourge into a burn pile. The men carefully helped pile them up, when they were finished, Jaina raised a hand, ready to ignite them, before pausing.

Her eyes landed on a grief stricken Arthas, staring at the pile as if it were the greatest failure of his life. She had missed that last time, she was sure of it, caught up in her in the horror of what had happened.

"I'm sorry Arthas," she said quietly.

Arthas blinked a few times. "What for? This isn't your fault."

"They were your people," she said softly, walking over to put a gentle hand on a pauldron, "They didn't deserve this."

"No, they didn't," said Arthas quietly, reaching up to grasp her hand within his.

Jaina aimed her staff and set the corpse pile ablaze before they turned and left with great hurry. It was like a disturbing fit of deja vu, as they crossed paths with footmen fighting skeletons, a pair of Quel'Dorei Priests, and a Mortar Team of dwarves blasting into a skeleton filled village. They waded through the tide of the basic undead troops, followed by a necromancer in the process of reanimating dead villagers.

Once more Jaina's vision tinted red, this time at the sight of a most hated foe, she aimed a hand and called down a blizzard, shards of ice piercing into the necromancer and his undead slaves. Arthas and his men took point, creating a barrier of plate armor between Jaina, the priests, and the Mortar Team as they slowly approached a warehouse at the end of town.

"We've been discovered my brothers! Flee and continue with the operation!"

Jaina froze as that voice pierced through the air, her eyes locked onto to a garbed necromancer in the middle of a gathering of Acoloytes, ghouls, and an Abomination, her voice was ice when she spat out, "Kel'Thuzzad."

The man paused and turned his eyes to asses her and Arthas, something... odd... in his eyes, a look of familiarity. "I'm sorry I can't stay and chat Lady Proudmore, but duty calls."

She raised her staff and shot a fireball at the man, but he dove to the side and hit the ground running, his undead lackeys pouring forward to create a diversion.

"Light, what _**IS** _ that monstrosity milord?" cried out one of the footmen as the Abomination lurched forward.

"We'll study it _**AFTER** _ we kill it!" answered Arthas, charging forward with glowing warhammer raised.

The two groups smashed into eachother in a melee of putrid flesh and metal. Jaina focused her spellwork on the Abomination, it was the only true threat in the ground. She sent a fireball into it's gaping stomach, expanded the energy, and then ruptured the spell, causing to to explode and send Abomination parts all over the area.

"Gross Jaina," said Arthas after his men put down the ghouls, before his eyes sighted a warehouse loaded with infected grain, his eyes igniting in anger. "Destroy that warehouse, now!"

And destroy it they did. They smashed the crates, brought the warehouse to its knees, and then Jaina burnt both it and the blighted land around it to a cinder.

"So it _**IS** _ this 'Kel'Thuzzad' you mentioned," snarled Arthas, "I want them, I want _him_ , that bastard deliberately slaughtering my people!"

That anger and rage had become so familiar by the end of their journey together at Strathlome, yet it scared her. It was a precursor a more cold and deadly anger. She walked up behind Arthas and wrapped her arms around him.

"Shh Arthas, shhh," she said softly, "We'll stop him, we'll make this right."

Arthas seethed for a few more moments before his anger fled, his hands coming to grasp hers tightly. "We will. It's a good bet that we'll find him in Andorhal."

"Yeah," she said, staring at the road leading from the warehouse deeper into Northern Lordaeran, "I think we will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double Stories?
> 
> Based on feedback from another site: Do people want a second story? Two stories side-by-side? 
> 
> An undead route where Arthas/Jaina join the scourge.  
> A living route where they stay pure.
> 
> It would take longer that way rather than doing the 2nd route after the 1st is complete. But, you wouldn't have to wait before seeing the 2nd route unfold. You could also compare and contrast stories as they both progressed, I'd probably switch back and forth doing one chapter at a time.
> 
> And does Ao3 have any rule against that kind of twin/sister story thing?
> 
> If not, I'd probably start the 2nd story when this one reaches Strathlome and diverge from there if that's what people would like.


	5. First Divergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Going with the Book version that just skips to Andorhal, because doing game mechanics of building a base/training footmen and such makes no sense in stories.

* * *

Jaina's eyes flickered skyward at smoke rising from the direction of Andorhal, biting out a bit of sarcasm, "Well that's always a good sign."

Arthas snorted. "As if all the undead on the way here weren't? Move it men!"

He was pressing them as hard as he had last time, a flat out run without break to Andorhal, save for stopping to clear the undead out of the way. But unlike last time, Jaina knew a few 'tricks' to keep her energy up; she had been forced to learn how to use her magic to supplement her body's weakness during the first struggle with the Burning Legion. She couldn't recall if she had gotten any sleep from when she had first met Medivh and Thrall up until the end of the Battle for Mount Hyjal. It was useful to be able to go on like that, but there would be an awful crash waiting for her when she stopped feeding on her magic to do so. Not stopping her reliance on it, or going for to long to many times wasn't an option, because that led to addiction, and eventually the same problem that had led to the Blood Elves being forced to turn to Demonic Magic to sustain themselves lest they turn into Wretched.

Arthas swore as they came upon a ruined and burning gate, coming to a stop to glower at it. "Dammit! We're to late."

"Judging by the damage, we were to late before we even set out on this mission Arthas," said Jaina, standing next to him, "There's nothing we could have done."

Arthas nodded sullenly, and strode forth. "Lets find that Necromancer and put an end to him."

"Agreed," said Jaina darkly, a savage grin spreading across her face.

She had never had the opportunity to truly kill Kel'Thuzad in her past. The Heroes of Azeroth had defeated him both times in Naxxramas. She could say she was looking forward to it. She could feel his presence, feel Kel'Thuzad. Yet, as they moved into the ruined town, something about this... tickled her as wrong. He was alone; this day had been burned into her memories, and she could distinctly remember there being a number of undead protecting the Necromancer. Andorhal was completely empty save for him and them.

Kel'Thuzad was waiting for them, sitting on a box of empty grain crates, a sarcastic smile on his, his smooth voice escaping his lips, "I'm afraid you are a bit to late to stop the distribution, my apologies, Mal'Ganis is a bit of a slave driver."

That stopped Jaina from immediately putting a bolt of lighting through him, taken by surprise as she was. Kel'Thuzad hadn't said that last time, he had sputtered on something about curiosity being the death of them.

Arthas gripped his warhammer tightly, stopping a ways from the Necromancer. "And just who is this 'Mal'Ganis'?"

"The Dreadlord Mal'Ganis, a demon who controls the Scourge," answered Kel'Thuzad.

Arthas started. "A what?"

Kel'Thuzad tilted his head. "You are not deaf, my prince."

"The Horde's Demons are dead," said Arthas quietly.

Kel'Thuzad chuckled. "So young and naive. The demons never belonged to the Horde, rather, it was the Horde that belonged to the demons. They sold themselves on a lie, and broke both their world and their unity because of it. Is that not right Lady Proudmoure? You have seen their internment camps, how the remnants of the Horde reverted to shamanism?"

Jaina was at a complete and utter loss as to what was going on or where he was taking this. "I have, your point being what?"

He had the audacity to smile at her. "My point being that demons have only ever craved one thing, death and destruction. The old Horde, and now the Scourge, are just precursors of something far worse to come. The Undead could be something far greater than they are now, an everlasting civilization to stretch on until the end of time. Instead, the Demons would use us as a blade to cleanse this world of all life and resistance."

Arthas tensed. "Why then? Why serve a Demon? Why do this?"

Kel'Thuzad frowned and pulled on his beard. "I didn't know about the demons until it was far to late. I swore myself to the damned in pursuit of knowledge and eternal life. Servitude to the demons was not part of the equation. This Plague of Undeath created on the demands of a demon, while ingenious, leaves much to be desired. Those who join the Scourge should be those who do so willingly. Mindless slaves are a bit... lacking... compared to rapt intelligence that will continue to eternally grow."

Jaina narrowed her eyes, confused, but noticing something. Was... Kel'Thuzad trying to pin the blame on the Legion, rather than himself or the Scourge?

"Is that regret I hear necromancer?" said Arthas, darkly bemused, he shifted his warhammer to the side, "As much as I'd rather crush your skull into the ground, the Silver Hand believes in redemption. If you turn from this path and help us..."

Kel'Thuzad threw back his head and laughed. "I'm afraid not my prince. I'm already damned, and my soul bound to the One True King in servitude. However... I am no ally of demons, so allow me to share a warning with you."

He grew serious, standing up, his staff thumping the ground as he used it for support to rise, "Beware the cunning of a Dreadlord. He knows of you, your hot-hotheadedness, your rage, your inexperience; he will seek to lure you into a trap by playing upon your passions. But if all else fails, and you find yourself alone in the Cold North, beware unproven rumors and leave your curiosity alone, for it will be the death of you."

Jaina stared at Kel'Thuzad, wide-eyed. What was... did he just... discretely warn Arthas about Frostmourne?! Why would he do that?

Arthas frowned. "So, stop and think? Hmph, I hear that enough from Uther, I don't need to hear it from a _Necromancer_. Especially one planning on 'cleansing the world'."

He hefted his warhammer. "Your Scourge wont get the chance. Lordaeron will stand fast against and be the bulwark to hold back both the Undead and any 'demons'."

Kel'Thuzad slowly shook his head. "You hear but you do not listen. But I suppose it doesn't mater. Events have been put in motion on so short a time that I never saw coming. You will find that your 'Bulwark' is pointless when the damned slipped by before it was ever put in place."

Jaina studied him. Events in motion? Did Tichondrious do something to cause this? To make the Scourge start planning to betray the Legion early? And what did he mean by 'slipped by'?

"If you wish to kill Mal'Ganis, seek him out in Stratholme," said Kel'Thuzad, flashing a grin, "You will be doing the Scourge a favor."

With that, he vanished in a puff of magic.

"That damn sneaky son of a bitch!" swore Arthas, walking over and kicking the crate the Necromancer had been sitting on, "Come on, we have to check the graininess!"

Jaina closed her eyes briefly, tiredly. "He said they had been delivered already Arthas."

He of course didn't listen as he rushed further into Andorhal, swinging one door open after the other, only to find empty boxes, little scraps of plagued grain and dead rats next to them. "Dammit!"

"Dammit!"

"DAMMIT!"

Arthas looked like he was ready to buckled after he opened the last empty warehouse. "To late... to damn late..."

"I'm sorry Arthas," said Jaina quietly as she stood next to him.

"He can preach at me all he wants about this not being what he expected," spat Arthas, rage and hate filling his voice, "But he still did it. When I get my hands on that undead-loving bastard I'm going to rip him into so many pieces no one will be able to sew him back together!"

Jaina narrowed her eyes at that familiar sensation, that hate rippling off him. _Not this time_.

She lifted her staff, and smacked him on the back of his head with it, causing him to stagger and turn, eyes wide. "Jaina!"

She pointed her staff at him. "You are a Paladin Arthas, do not _ever_ forget that. The moment you let your anger and hate drive you over your love and compassion is the moment you become as vile as the undead we face."

Arthas glared, yes glared, at her. "You want me to love necromancers?"

She glared right back, oh she remembered this conversation, though it had happened later rather than now; she stepped forward and jabbed him with her staff, each word and jab driving him back until he was pressed up against a wall. "Do. Not. Twist. My. Words."

She pulled her staff away and let it's bottom thump heavily on the ground, as if to command attention. "You are a Paladin. A servant of the Light. A Healer as much as a warrior, but right now all you seem to be able to do is think with your warhammer, of how to kill. I don't like what this is doing to you Arthas..."

"Doing to me?" he snapped back, "What about what it's doing to the villagers? They're dying and then getting turned into corpses Jaina. I have to stop it, _I have to_!"

"You are one man Arthas," she said quietly, "Tread carefully not to pile so much weight on yourself that you break."

"I will do what I must," he growled.

"And so will I," she shot back, "And unlike you, I can teleport someone across great distances. So if I believe for one moment you've snapped, you aren't thinking rationally, or have been compromised, I am going to drop you right on your ass in your father's court, consequences be damned."

He looked positively scandalized. "Jaina!"

" _Do not test me Arthas_!" she warned, voice raised.

For a moment, he looked _scared_ of her, before he cleared his throat a few times, composing himself

"Jaina... I just want innocent people to stop dying. That's all," he said slowly, trying to control his temper, smiling at her with a smile she hadn't had enough experience with last time to understand it was cracked, starting to break, "And... I admit, I'm upset that I can't seem to make that happen. But when this is all over, you'll see. Everything will be fine again, I..."

"Don't make promises you can't keep Arthas," she cut off.

She remember having such hope the first time he said that. But she knew better. "You are one person, you cannot do everything yourself. The more you try without sharing the burden, the worse it will be."

She let her shoulder's slump a bit, a sigh escaping her lips, her voice softening. "I'm not as blind about you as I was before Arthas. I _fear_ for you, I truly do. Because as much as I hate to admit it, Kel'Thuzad is right. You're passions do drive you, and while that's something I have loved about you in the past, it will your undoing if you let it."

Arthas hesitated, a bit bewildered by her sudden change, before stepping forward and reaching a hand out to rest on her shoulder. "You don't need to worry about me Jaina..."

"Don't I?" she asked wearily, "This... this is to much for anyone's first true test. The Horde was a kinder test to your father than the Scourge is to you. The Horde at least didn't raise your own people as slaves and force you to fight them in bulk."

Arthas closed his eyes and sighed, reaching up to rub them. "It is... difficult to handle, I'll admit. But I'll be alright Jaina."

He opened his eyes and flashed her his old charming smile. "I have you looking out for me after all."

"You do," she said, allowing a brief small smile before narrowing her eyes and growling out. "Now, lets go put down a necromancer."

"What happened to not letting anger or hate drive someone?" he teased.

"Not a Paladin," she said singsong, turning and striding from the building.

The group gathered and set out north, following a trail of old corpses, empty creates, and old footprints. Yet... when they got to an empty Scourge slaughterhouse, not a single undead in sight rather than teeming with Abominations, it finally hit Jaina that something had drastically changed.

"It looks like they were directing things from here before they cleared out," muttered Arthas, glancing around, eyes narrowed, "Kel'Thuzad's not here."

Jaina swallowed heavily. Kel'Thuzad wasn't here. He hadn't waited to die as he had done before. He was _still alive_. Oh sweet Light...

"He... dropped of his message and ran," she said quietly, numbly.

Arthas muttered a few choice words under his breath before turning to address his men. "Forget him then. He'll get his dues one day, but we can't afford to waste time hunting him down. Hearthglen isn't more than a night's distance. If we go all night, we can reach and warn them in the morning. Strathlome is but a day out from there, we'll see about this so called 'demon' there."

They took off afterwards, and Jaina ran in a daze. Her mind was whirling in all the ways this could turn out so much worse with Kel'Thuzad still alive. He had been the most powerful Lich in service to the Scourge, as a Necromancer he would still be powerful. She played the conversation with him over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of it all. There was something going on that she wasn't aware of, something she was missing, a piece of information she was lacking...

She brooded on both it and Arthas, watching her prince as he ran, determination and focus driving him. They went for hours with hardly a break until finally Hearthglen came into view... along with it's defenders running drills.

Arthas came to a halt, eyebrows furrowed, taking a few moments to huff and puff and collect a breath. "It... looks like they're preparing for battle."

One of the footmen saw him and ran forward. "Prince Arthas! During the night, a vast army of undead warriors emerged and began attacking villages at random! Now it's heading our way."

The first true army of the damned. The first true full-scale battle against the Scourge...

Arthas gulped heavily before turning. "Damn it. Jaina, I'll stay here and protect the village..."

"I'm not leaving you," she said in a warning tone.

"Every second counts Jaina, we have no time," he argued.

"And every body counts," she countered; she _had_ to stay, she couldn't let him face this alone, couldn't let him break, "We can hold better with an archmage here, I'll send a familiar to request reinforcements."

"Jaina," he said sternly, drawing himself upright, "As the future King of Lordaeron I am _ordering_ you to go."

Her eyes went wide with astonishment. And for a moment, she was back in Strathlome, watching Arthas take that same tone and line with Uther.

She narrowed her eyes dangerously, energy cackling around her, making those nearby back off fearfully. She remembered the words Uther had spoken, and they unbidden rushed out of her mouth in a snarl, "You are _NOT_ my king yet, nor would I obey that command even if you were."

Arthas looked a bit stunned, before he licked his lips, trying another route. "Jaina, please, I need you safe. I can fight better if..."

She _knew it_. She fucking _**knew it**_. He _**HAD** _ originally sent her away because he was afraid for her. Did he not think she was strong enough to face this? Or was this some possessive fear?

She had enough of this. She flattened him to the ground with a single burst of energy, ignoring the gasps of the townsfolk and guards. "Listen, and listen well _Prince_ Arthas. I am not some weak or meek damsel in distress. I am an Archmage of the Kirin Tor. I can take care of myself, and I am not a servant who must obey _you_. I am not a keepsake that is kept around to please you and then sent away when you need to focus and get serious or you tire of me."

She saw him flinch at that, at the not-so subtle reminder of the Winter Vail, and she drove it in.

She pointed her staff at him, energy cackling around it. "I have a mind and a will of my own. Do not ever forget that."

He nodded shakily.

She withdrew her staff and all but slammed the bottom of it into the ground, hissing out quietly, "You have _no idea_ how angry I am with you right now Arthas, but there isn't time for this. You can trust me that when this is over, we will be having words, _yet again_ , about this. But right now, get up, take command of this town, and see to it's defenses."

He nodded again, not daring to say a word, and rose to his feet, turning to go.

Jaina hesitated for a moment before softening and lowering her voice. "Arthas, no matter how hard you try to drive me away, to face this horror on your own, _I'm_ _not leaving you_."

Arthas paused, his head swerving to look at her in confused astonishment. "Jaina..."

She turned and strode off, relaxing her power back into her body. "I'll need a minute to summon a familiar to send a message to Master Antonidas. I'll join you when I'm finished."

She moved behind a house and partially collapsed against a house, hand to her chest. Had she actually done that? She shook her head, she didn't have time for this. She summoned a familiar and conjured a pen and parchment, using the house as a surface to write on. She rolled up the paper when she was done, gave it to the raven, and sent it off.

"Wait-what did those crates contain?" came Arthas's voice.

Jaina blinked a few times and rounded the house, looking at Arthas stare grimly at several crates of...

Oh no...

"Just a grain shipment from Andorhal. There's no need to worry, milord. It's already been distributed amog the villagers. We've had plenty of bread," one of the villager's answered.

"Oh no," whispered Arthas, staring at the villager in despair, struggling to find his voice

Nearby civilians started doubling over, a green glow-like slime en-coating their bodies, blood rushing out of their mouths, screams and crying filling the village before the village fell silent. Arthas stared at the sight in broken horror.

"Merciful light," cried out Falric, "The bread..."

Arthas's despair rapidly bleed into fury, "The plague was never meant to simply kill my people. It was meant to turn them..."

The corpses _moved_ , sitting up right, then standing, then throwing themselves at the town's unturned defenders.

"...into the undead! Defend yourselves!" finished and cried out Arthas.

There was pure disorganized panic as the defenders of Lordaeron fought to put down those who had been their loved ones only moments before. They were left stunned, loss etched into their features at the end of it. Arthas himself was shaking, staring down at a corpse with such loss and horror and anger that Jaina could see the exact moment that had created the Arthas that had been willing to do whatever it took, purge Strathlome, sell his soul, _anything_ , to try and stop this madness. So she rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Shh Arthas shh, come back to me," she whispered, clutching him tightly.

He took a shaky breath, his voice cracking, "J-jaina... this... this is..."

"It's wrong," she said softly, running a hand through his golden-blond hair, "It's so unbelievably horrifically wrong."

He grasped her arms around him, clutching them tightly enough to bruise, as if holding on for dear life, but she said nothing, merely being a pillar to ground him.

"The Undead forces have arrived!" cried out one of the survivors.

Arthas suckered in a breath, forcing his way through his horror through shear necessity, and broke free of Jaina's embrace. "Hold your ground! We are the chosen of the Light! _We shall not fall_!"

"We shall not fall," murmured Jaina, striding behind Arthas towards the oncoming mass of undead...

* * *

Kel'Thuzad watched the battle begin from a distance, sitting ontop of a nearby boulder, gripping Proudmore's familiar in his hand, fingers brushing it absentmindedly as it nervously fluttered, wings and feathers sticking through the gaps between his fingers. "So this is the different choice you make Jaina..."

He crushed the familiar in his hand, a brief squawk of agony followed by a spurt of blood and feathers. "You will learn that all choice have consequences, regardless of your intent."

He grabbed her message out of it's twitching talons, briefly read it, before he simply let it fall to the ground. He propped himself off the boulder, landing on and crushing the parchment underfoot, grinding it in.

"Lordaeron is lost, the sooner you realize it, the better off you will be," he murmured before walking away from the battle...

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll eventually do the Undead version of this story, but, I'm going to clear the living side first. I already have to many stories running. In the interest of not burning out / actually getting them finished, I should really stop making more.
> 
> Also, random question, does anyone know if Taelen Fordring was actually in Hearthglen for WC3? Or was his whole Hearthglen stint a WoW only thing?


	6. Hearthglen's Fall

It had been a long time since Jaina had been involved in a battle against legions of the Undead. She couldn't say it was an experience she enjoyed, and unfortunately one she had never forgotten. The moans and cries of the damned assaulted one's ears. The stench of rotting and/or burning flesh assaulted one's nose. The disfigurement of each hapless undead slave, some missing limbs, covered in blood and ooze, some naked, some with their skin missing, and more assaulted one's eyes. Dark Magic, claws, and weapons assaulted one's body. And finally, the horror of it all assaulted one's mind.

None of it truly affected her anymore.

She couldn't quite recall when she had stopped feeling when fighting against the Undead. When she had been able to just turn herself off, and kill them without hesitation, without pity, nor remorse. The initial Scourging of Lordaeran? The Legion's Invasion? Northrend? After Arthas had died? She didn't honestly know.

She supposed she didn't care either.

Fireballs erupted from her hands, surging into groups of Undead and scattering them.

Lightning cackled along her fingertips, chaining from one Undead to another.

Sheets of ice materialized and rained down from above, piercing and pinning undead to the ground.

Yet... it was always the same with the Undead. They simply kept on coming. Droves and droves crashed into the shields of the footmen, rending and tearing and biting and chewing. Abominations acting like heavy battering rams to break and shatter the defensive line. From the air by gargoyles. From the ground by Crypt Fiends. More were reanimated from the corpses of the defenders or were corpses re-raised by Necromancers who just wouldn't let the dead find release. Undead loaded into Meat Wagons and thrown at the defenders, or behind their lines as a back-attack.

Jaina hadn't realized the first true battle against the Undead had been so hectic and brutal. What really caught her offguard was the Lich, she never knew there had been any active before Kel'Thuzzad was reborn out of the Sunwell, then they had seemed to crawl out of the woodworks. She hadn't realized the danger until a nova of frost cast aside the defenders and the rattle of chains filled the air. Jaina only had a split second to spot the Lich throwing a spear of ice at her before Arthas took her to the ground, knocking her out of the way.

"Light, what is that thing?" cried out someone.

Jaina surged to her a feet, a quick 'thanks', escaping her lips to her prince, and tunnel visioned on the Lich. She threw a bolt of lightning, arcing overhead of the fighting troops at the floating undead mage. The Lich formed an armor of frost and blocked it, waving a hand and returning the effort with a blast of cold energy. Jaina waved her staff, dispersing the spell before it crossed the distance. There was a brief pause from the Lich, appearing surprised, before it resumed the battle of spells. They continued to trade spells, testing one another. It was Jaina's first test against a real threat in her younger body...

...and then Arthas rushed the Lich, cloaked in a shield of light, leaped into the air, and caved in it's skull with a mighty smash of his warhammer.

"Hey! That was mine!" called out Jaina.

Arthas shot her a grim, if but cheeky grin, before returning to the fight. Jaina smiled briefly, before she refocused. The cleared up the current wave of Scourge and took a breather.

Arthas wiped the sweat from his brow before calling out, "Take a few minutes to rest and prepare for the next attack!"

Footmen collapsed against nearby walls, rifelmen leaned wearily on their guns, what few Priests and other Sorceresses they had sat down, giving themselves time to recharge their energy. Arthas merely stood at the middle entrance to Hearthglen, awaiting the next assault.

"Prince Arthas! One of the scouts managed to report back!" came a cry from the northern gate.

The news wasn't good. "We've spotted an Undead Caravan carrying a large load of plagued grain."

"That Caravan must be stopped before it reaches the outer villages," said Arthas harshly, "We hardly have the numbers to hold back their current attacks. If they take the outer villages, we will be overwhelmed."

Another thing Jaina hadn't known about. There had hardly been any time originally to get details of this battle from Arthas the first time around.

This was, however, something she could do. "I can take out the Caravan and teleport back."

Arthas frowned, and for a moment she though he might try to hold her back, _again_ , but he merely nodded and motioned to his two captains. "Marwyn, Falric, go with her."

"Just the three of us m'lord?" asked Falric cautiously.

He nodded. "Jaina's capable of taking it out herself, she just needs someone to watch her back while she does her work."

 _Finally,_ a bit of trust in her capabilities. "We will be back before you know it."

They got directions from the scout before taking off out the northern gate, hiding briefly behind a few trees as another wave of Scourge passed, and then continued north. Jaina's stomach fluttered anxiously a bit about leaving Arthas to face it alone, but he had survived this before, and she wouldn't be long. The came to the first village, and Jaina pulled them to a halt.

She looked at the meager and scarred defenders, at villagers cowing fearfully, eyeing the treeline for threats. Forget the caravan, a single wave of undead would topple the defenders and wipe the entire village out.

"By order of Prince Arthas, you are to all evacuate to Hearthglen," she lied before continuing, "The Prince is holding off the main Undead force while we await reinforcements from the capital. Take shelter there or risk your deaths here."

She didn't bother to wait to see what they would do before taking off again.

"Order of the prince, M'lady?" came a comment from Falric, a nervous chuckle from his lips.

"It's for their own good, besides, he'd have agreed with me," she said.

They reached the second village just as the Undead Caravan did and all hell broke lose. Civilians ran screaming into the woods, defenders rushed at the Undead, the wagons, green misty taint roiling off them, rolled towards a cowering group of villagers...

Jaina growled, aiming a hand and calling fire down from the skies. A massive firebomb rained down and landed square in the middle of the caravan, obliterating it in one go. The defenders cried out and raised their arms defensively at the shockwave and brief gust of fire before it settled. Jaina huffed and puffed a bit, feeling the drain out of that spell. How in the world had that _little_ spell cost her that much energy? She shook her head and strode to the center of the village.

"Everyone to me!" she called out, "I'm teleporting to Hearthglen, it's not safe to remain here!"

There was no hesitation from the villagers, they all rushed towards her, relief and hope on their faces, and formed a circle. It felt... good... to see that look aimed at her again, rather than the disgust and suspicion she had grown used to. She gave an encouraging smile before focusing on Arthas's presence off in the distance. She aimed her staff, channeled her power, and teleported them away...

...reappearing at the center of Hearthglen mid-attack from the Scourge. The civilians ran to join the others while the new defenders rushed to the front line. Jaina took one step before a massive dizzy spell hit her. She fell to a knee, clutching her head. It took her a moment to realize just how much energy it had taken to teleport clusters of people. She was briefly flabbergasted, since when had teleporting... oh right, Light damn it! She had grown used to it later on, developed reserves of mana that would make any archmage jealous.

But that wasn't today, this body was to young and to untested.

She was burning through to much mana to fast. Carelessly casting spells as fast as she could from the moment the battle had begun. If she kept it up, she'd be useless within the next ten minutes, if not sooner. She forced herself to sit out the current fight, finding a crate to sit on and catch her breath. Arthas joined her after he was finished repelling the attack. He looked as strained and tired as she felt.

"You alright Jaina?" he asked.

"Just... need to put the theory of managing my mana into practice," she said, an embarrassed smile crossing her face.

Arthas laughed wearily. "Yeah, I'm about spent to. How much longer do you think the reinforcements will be?"

It had taken roughly half an hour for Uther to gather enough troops to be sent into the fray the first time around. It had been roughly... fifteen, maybe twenty minutes already if she counted right. Though, in hindsight, it would take a familiar longer to fly than it had taken her to just teleport...

"Hopefully no more than half an hour," she estimated.

Arthas looked grim. "If they keep coming at the pace they have been, I don't know if we can hold that long Jaina. Especially if that damn floating skeleton mage keeps coming back every other attack."

"It's called a Lich," explained Jaina, "They're probably reviving it without pause using it's Phylactery."

"A lich?" murmured Arthas, giving her a curious look, "What is a Phylactery? What else do you know of these things?"

Jaina paused briefly, realizing she _shouldn't_ know what they are yet. She really needed to think before she said anything. "I..."

"Another attack is coming!" cried out a defender.

Arthas immediately broke off, and Jaina silently praised the timing. She didn't know how she would have been able to explain it. She made to join Arthas before a cry of an attack from another entrance sounded. She broke off and ran to the second attack, arriving as the Undead washed over the defenders. Jaina waved a hand and sent out a burst of arcane energy, sending the Scourge flying back, giving Hearthglen's defenders time to regroup.

Wave after wave of Scourge came at Hearthglen, and wave after wave was struck down. Jaina got her turn, several of them in fact, to face off against the Lich and destroy it. Each encounter burned her reserves of mana, and mana potions to restore it.

This time, rather than attack, the Lich hung back, watching her obliterate it's Undead Slaves and then guzzle down her last mana potion. "Impressive for one so young."

Jaina narrowed her eyes at it and grew scornful. "Don't you ever get tired of getting blown to bits?"

The Lich cackled. "The gift of immortality knows no bounds! I can never be permanently killed! Your efforts are for naught, you will all die!"

Nearby footmen and riflemen backed away in fear, Jaina merely rolled her eyes, "Death and doom speeches bore me."

The Lich tilted it's skeletal head. "You do not fear death, little archmage?"

"Not from the likes of you," she said, scrutinizing it, "You got a name, _little Lich_? Considering how you're used like cannon fodder I almost doubt it"

The Lich seemed affronted. "I am Ordin Frostbane! One of the greatest champions of the Scourge!"

"Yeah, never heard of you," said Jaina; and she meant it. She could not honestly recall having encountered, read about, or being warned of this Lich. It's Phylactery had probably been destroyed by Uther or his men when they had come originally.

The Lich pointed a bony finger at her. "Oh, but you will, all will know my name and tremble!"

What an arrogant piece of work this one was. "Someone's got a superiority complex."

If it was capable of facial movements, she imagined it would be glaring at her. "In light of your power and promise, I was going to offer you the gift of necromancy, and eventual lichdom, but perhaps being a mindless slave would suit you better."

Jaina scoffed. "You must be out of your mind if you think I would have accepted that offer."

The Lich grew incredulous. "You would deny yourself immortality? The power to transcend death itself?"

Jaina's response was to point her staff at it and release a blast of fire. Ordin met the attack and batted it aside with it's frost-engulfed hand. "If that does not tempt you, then perhaps a trade? My... benefactor... would take your service, in exchange for allowing the villagers to flee with their lives."

"Do. I. Look. Stupid?" she asked, temper starting to flare at its audacity, "If I was turned into an Undead, a necromancer or a Lich, I'd kill far more than what people are gathered here. I will never join the Scourge! So take your offer back to the Lich King and shove it up his ass!"

The Lich froze, and then it's voice grew harsh. "What did you say?"

A chill ran down Jaina's spine as she felt a powerful and dark presence within the Lich peer out at her. It took her a moment to recognize that she had, once again, put her foot in her mouth. She had just revealed to the Scourge she knew of the Lich King, and if that presence was who and what she thought it was, she had drawn Ner'zhul's personal attention in doing so. Oh dammit...

The Lich growled. "You, little Archmage, will be brought before the Lich King you would scorn. He has questions that is he is _very_ interested in you answering."

A dark blue aura engulfed the Lich, and Jaina couldn't help but step back, afraid. She could sense what was going on, the Lich King was directly empowering the Lich...

The Lich waved a hand and blew away the defenders with a massive blast of frost, killing most, scattering the rest. "Arise minions of the cold dark!"

Previously struck down Undead and fallen defenders shambled to their feet as the Lich's power washed over them. "Bring me the girl!"

Reserves be damned! Jaina pulled out everything she had as she back peddled, casting one spell after another to down one Undead after the other...

She screamed in agony as a nova of frost hit her head on, sending her crashing to the ground. She winced painfully as she hit and struggled to rise to her feet, yelping as decaying hands of Ghouls grabbed her arms and started to drag her forward, bringing her to the Lich. Ordin reached a glowing bony-hand towards her head, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

"Sleep."

Jaina's eyes went wide with terror as she felt the spell begin to cast...

"GET AWAY FROM HER!"

Arthas barreled into the Lich, startling it out of it's spell and knocking it to the ground. His eyes were almost feral in anger and fear, raising a shining warhammer up into the air and bringing it down on the Lich's chest. Light erupted on impact, making the Lich screech in pain, and nearby Undead scattered away. Arthas kept on swinging again and again, looking like he was possessed as he beat the Lich into a pulp. He moved, as if he was at full strength and hadn't been fighting an exhausting battle, his warhammer bashing the Undead into submission. Jaina watched, awed, as he took apart the Lich's entire attack wave single-handedly before rushing to her.

There was so much panic and fear in his eyes it made her tremble. "Jaina! Speak to me! Are you okay?"

"I...," she whispered raggedly, "I think I pissed it off."

He stared at her, incredulous, before laughing, and not the good kind of laugh. "Jaina, I swear you are going to be the death of me."

Jaina flinched and forced herself to look at the ground, trying not to show how deeply those words scared her.

"The Undead are attacking from the north entrance!" came a cry.

Arthas swore and grabbed her arm, helping her to her feet, only for her to collapse against him, exhausting making her legs tremble. He briefly knelt down to pick her up and rushed back into central Hearthglen, setting her down with an order to 'rest', before dashing off towards the battle. Jaina closed her eyes briefly, breathing raggedly. She forced herself to watch wearily as Arthas shifted the defenders to cover the now empty south entrance. They were spread to thin, she could see it, and judging by how grim Arthas looked, he knew it as well. Attack by attack, the defenders began to dwindle, until Arthas called them to fallback from the entrances of Hearthglen and defend the central square.

"Damn it! Where the hell Uther? It's been over an hour!" swore Arthas loudly, exhausting bleeding into his voice.

Over an hour!?

Jaina struggled to rise to her feet. Something was wrong. It shouldn't have taken that long to get reinforcements. It couldn't have taken her familiar that long to...

The moment she thought of it, and stretched her senses for it, she gasped. "Arthas!"

He glanced towards her, alarmed, searching for a threat.

"I can't... I can't feel my familiar," she exclaimed, shocked, then terrified, "It... it must have been intercepted and killed. There's no help coming..."

Arthas froze, all the defenders froze, looking at her in horror. But the Undead would not wait. They poured in from all entrances, Ordin Frostbane leading the charge yet again.

"To arms!" cried out Arthas, "Every man, woman, and child, to arms!"

It was a complete and utter slaughter. Some civilians obeyed, but most panicked, trying to run and flee around the battle. Only to get picked and torn apart. What defenders remained start dying in droves, buildings were put to the torch, the Scourge even started summoning their buildings into Hearthglen, forcing them back and into a corner.

"We will not fall!" roared Arthas in defiance, "We are the chosen of the Light!"

As the Scourge surged around them one final time, Jaina closed her eyes, sucked in her breath, and drew out everything she had, tapping into her own lifeforce to fuel the spell. She latched onto every surviving person in Hearthglen, then stretched out her senses, searching for her old Master's presence, and began to cast her spell. They would die if they stayed, she had to teleport them out of here.

"There is no escape!" came the voice of the Lich.

Pain.

Horrific chilling pain erupted through Jaina's chest. She opened her eyes to see a spear of ice pierced through her midsection.

"JAINA!" screamed Arthas.

She shakily stared at the triumphant lich, smiled a bloody smile, and finished her spell.

What few defenders of Hearthglen vanished in a flash of arcane magic, leaving the Lich behind as it howled in rage as Jaina's world turned dark...

* * *

Uther the Lightbringer was getting to old for this.

One day, sometime soon, he wanted to retire. Perhaps start a farm and live out the rest of his days in peace.

He stood in the throne room of the Lordaeran palace in private attendance with the King. Calia Menethil stood at her father's side. Archmage Antonidas at Uther's side, as he tried to persuade King Terenas. "It's been to long since we last heard from Prince Arthas your Majesty. The report he sent to me, and the one sent to Master Antonidas by Lady Proudmoore has me deeply concerned. Arthas, while strong, is young and largely untested. This kind of threat these 'undead' represent may be more than he can handle..."

"Uther," interupted the King with a sigh, "My son must step out of our shadow at some point. Unless he requests our aid, I will have faith in his abilities to contain..."

He was interrupted by a ringing sound, a circle of spellwork appearing in the middle of the throne room just in front of Uther.

Teranas stiffened as his guards came to alert. "What is this? The palace is supposed to be shielded from anyone teleporting into it!"

"Not from those trusted by the crown," said Antonidas calmly, "I feel my apprentice's spellwork at hand."

Uther's eyebrows furrowed. Lady Proudmoore was teleporting to the palace? Had something gone wrong?

His worst fears were more than realized as the spell finished, and Arthas, Jaina, an High Elf priest, a few soldiers and civilians appeared in a bloody mess. Arthas was midswing of his warhammer, blood and gore and flesh covering it, slamming it into the palace floor. He was briefly startled, blinking a few times, before his strength seemed to suddenly leave him. He dropped his warhammer and pitched forward, barely managing to catch himself, many others doing the same. He struggled to rise to his feet, fear more deeply etched into his face than Uther had ever seen before.

"J-Jaina!" he cried hoarsely.

Uther followed his gaze in time to see Jaina Proudmoore, a spear of ice pierced right through her chest, pitch forward and collapse to the floor on her side. Antonidas suckered in a breath and rushed forward, kneeling down and touching the spear, dissolving it with a brief flick of his magic. Uther shook off his stupor and closed the distance in a few strides, kneeling down, hands glowing as he called on the light to mend the young girl's grievous wound.

Others began to break out of their shock and surprise, Terenas stood and gave an alarmed 'My son!'; Calia cried out 'Brother!' and stared forward. The Palace guards closed the distance and helped the other survivors to the walls of the throne room to rest against.

Uther finished healing the wound and moved the girl to lay on her back, eyes furrowing when she did not waken.

Antonidas had a worried, if but disapproving look on his face. "Foolish of you my young apprentice. She completely exhausted herself to the point of feeding off her own life to fuel her spellwork. Why did she let it reach this point?"

"She... she sent a... familiar," came Arthas's tired voice, "We thought... help was coming, but she... only just realized it must have been intercepted."

Uther closed his eyes in frustration. "Damn."

"Hearthglen... Hearthglen has fallen to an army of the Undead," said Arthas, his voice tinted with so much anger, frustration, and self-loathing, "They raised everyone... they killed. I couldn't stop them... I failed my people..."

Uther opened his eyes and looked at his student, really taking him in, and noted how shaken he was. He moved to kneel in front of the shaking man. "You did all you could lad."

Arthas weakly slammed a fist into the floor. "It wasn't enough!"

"Arthas, my son," said Terenas, placing a hand on his shoulder, "We will handle this threat. For now, rest and recover your strength. I will send word for a war council to be gathered, when you have had chance to catch your breath, you will detail what happened, and we will respond to this 'undead threat' with the full might of Lordaeran's army."

Arthas sighed wearily, and struggled to rise to his feet with the support of Uther and his family. He looked to Jaina. "Is she going to be alright?"

Antonidas nodded. "She will most likely be out for a few day's time. An archmage does not tap so heavily into their power, their mana, and their life, without consequences."

Terenas glanced at his guards, motioning to Jaina and then to his daughter. "One of you pick her up and follow my daughter to the guest wing of the Palace. Look after Lady Proudmoore my child."

Calia nodded and left. "Yes Father."

Terenas paused briefly, glancing at Antonidas. "It may be prudent to inform the Lord and Lady Proudmoore of their daughter's condition. I doubt they would appreciate being kept in the dark anymore than I would for a child of mine."

Antonidas nodded. "I will leave at once and return within the hour."

"If I may," came a voice.

They turned to see the High Elf Priest wearily approach. "The threat this Undead Scourge as it is called represents a danger greater than anything I have seen before, even the Horde during the Second War did not carry the same level of threat these creatures do. I beg a moment of your time to teleport me to Quel'Thalas Archmage Antonidas. Our King must be warned."

Terenas narrowed his eyes. "And would he send aid, considering he was the first to break from the Alliance of Lordaeron?"

The elf pursed his lips, but did not rise to the bait, instead offering a simple, "I do not know, but he must be warned all the same. This taint of undeath plagues the very ground itself, defiling and killing nature as readily it does a living soul. If it consumes Lordaeran, it will come for Quel'Thalas, and I fear it would never be the same again."

"I will take you to your king," said Antonidas, "And may he hopefully see reason."

Antonidas and the Elf disappeared a moment later in a flash of magic. Uther turned to Arthas, who looked practically dead on his feet, "Come on lad, lets get you some food and rest."

Arthas motioned to the rest of those who had been teleported in by Lady Proudmoore, "I can wait, they should be tended to."

Uther smiled softly at that unflinching dedication to his people. "They will be lad, not to worry. Now come on."

Either he agreed (which Uther doubted), or he was to tired to argue. Arthas thankfully let Uther lead him out of the throne room in search of food and a bed to rest in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah.
> 
> Strathlome didn't happen in this path.
> 
> Hearthglen got game over'd, Jaina got wrecked by a WC3 Randomly Named Lich, and things are going to get steadily worse from here on in. I have a surprise of the scope of the changes planned for next chapter, its going to be dreadfully delightful. :D


	7. Questions, answers, and Ill-Born News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, with a lot of groudwork laid for future chapters.
> 
> Also might give background to certain characters that I can't find any for, I.E. Faerlina and other cultists.

Prince Arthas Menethil sat wearily in his father's receiving room, where he would meet with diplomats and other important guests on occasion. A single night's rest had done little to aid him, plagued by nightmares of the horror's he, Jaina, and his luckily surviving captains had lived through. He'd rather be resting, in a chair aside Jaina's bed, watching over her while he struggled to come to terms with what had happened. Instead, he stood as patient as he could while a war council was connived. It consisted of his father, Uther, several members of the Silver Hand, and an old fossil (general) as of the moment.

His father sat at the head of the table, Uther on one side, Arthas on the other. To Uther's right was High General Abbendis. Calia stood in the back of the room along with Abbendis's daughter Brigitte, both as silent observers and note-takers. The only other two paladins in attendence aside from himself and Uther were Alexandrous Mograine and Saiden Dathrohan; though many others had been called together and were preparing themselves for battle in the capital city barracks and church. Daelin and Katherine Proudmoore were also in attendance, having seen to their daughter and readily offered their aid the moment his father had asked it of them.

Antonidas had been here half an hour ago, before he had abruptly left after a messenger had arrived from Quel'Thalas. Apparently the Elves were concerned enough to send representatives to attend to the council, to see if their aid was 'truly needed', or if it was a 'lesser mortal problem'; Antonidas was to pick up the representatives. Arthas wanted to snort in derision, the last time the Elves had taken that stance, their home had nearly burned.

As if in response to his thoughts, a moment later a circle of summoning appearing in the room. Antonidas appeared with two elves next to him...

Oh, great, _him_.

Arthas kept his contempt in check when his eyes laid on Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider. On one hand, it spoke well that the elves took this seriously enough to send their prince. On the other hand, it hadn't been to long ago, the last time he had visited Jaina in Dalaran, that the two of them had a spat over Jaina's heart. Still... personal vendettas had no place in such a gathering, so he shoved the feelings down and glanced at Kael'Thas's companion.

If his heart wasn't already sworn to Jaina, Arthas might have fallen head over heels for the beauty standing at the Elf Prince's side. Tall as all elves were, she wore what he recalled was a ranger's armor across her body. Blue pauldrons, gauntlets, leg guards, and chest armor (though her stomach area was bare), with brown leather covering her lower half. She had a brown cloak upon her back, and a brown hood drawn up over her blonde hair. Across her back was strapped a mighty and impressive bow. He knew he ought to know who this is, but couldn't quite place her at the moment.

"May I present Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider, and Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner," said Antonidas.

Ah, that's who it was.

King Terenas nodded his head in greetings, offering a diplomatic welcome. "It pleases me Quel'Thalas has taken our request seriously enough to send their prince and their finest general."

Kael smiled a thin smile. "My father holds his doubts, but I knew the Priest who survived this initial skirmish with the Undead. He is not one for falsehoods. When he told me of what happened, and Kel'Thuzad's involvement, I made it a priority to attend."

At the curious looks he received, he elaborated, "As a member of the Council of Six, I was there when Kel'Thuzad was expelled from Dalaran. I found the would-be necromancer's experiments abhorrent. To hear how it has expanded into something this abominable makes me wish we had voted for execution instead of banishment."

In that, Arthas found himself agreeing with the Elven prince.

"Hindsight is often more of a curse than a blessing," mused Antonidas.

Kael nodded and then motioned to the Ranger-General. "Lady Sylvanas is here as a bodyguard, an observer, and to offer her expertise in battle and tactics should it be needed."

Sylvanas tilted her head in acknowledgement, but offered no words.

"Be seated, and we will begin with my son detailing his experience with the Undead," said King Terenas.

Arthas closed his eyes, thinking on where to begin. His initial encounter and awkwardness with Jaina had no place in this meeting, and was frankly none of their business. "As soon as Lady Proudmoore arrived at the designating meeting location, we began to move into Northern Lordaeran..."

He quickly moved through the first village, the bandits and their camp, and then the farm and his first encounter with the Undead, finishing with something he thought would look favorable for Jaina, "I'll admit, I was more than distraught and confused as to what we had just encountered. Jaina thankfully kept a level head and calm mind, making the connection to Kel'Thuzad almost right away. She told us of her experience with his banishment from Dalaran and his Undead experiments."

There was a furrowing of both Antonidas and Kael's eyes, it was the first who spoke, "Her... experience?"

Arthas was slightly confused by their confusion. "You had her study Kel'Thuzad's experiments with reanimating rats as an example of lines to not be crossed."

The two magi blinked once, exchanged glances, and came back with worry and wariness on their faces.

Antonidas spoke first, carefully choosing each word in a manner that set Arthas ill at ease, "You are sure you did not _mishear_ her Prince Arthas?"

"No? That was what she said pretty much word for word," said Arthas.

The other members of the meeting were growing curious by this line of question, Saiden, someone Arthas knew as never afraid to speak his mind no matter the gathering, asked bluntly, "Is there a point to this Antonidas? I figure this is something delicate that the Magi of Dalaran _never told to us about_ , and that you would prefer to have kept it that way, but given the situation the girl was right to explain it."

Antonidas raised an eyebrow. "The internal affairs of Dalaran are just that, internal. The King was informed, and granted our request for discreetness."

"Something is abominable as reanimating the dead, the vile practice the Horde did with their Death Knights, is something that should have been brought to our immediate attention," said Saiden thinly, glancing at his fellow paladins for support.

Alexandrous nodded. "Agreed."

Uther, wisely in Arthas's opinion, did not waste time fighting an old issue, "As Dathrohan said, what is the problem? I don't feel that this disclosure is it."

Kael spoke softly, "Jaina was never asked to examine Kel'Thuzad's experiments. She incinerated one sample of undead rats as per Antonidas's instruction. She was never granted access to his notes or other experiments we discovered. She never asked, and we never offered."

It took a moment for Arthas to understand just what he was saying. "Are you saying Jaina _lied_ to me?"

"Yes," said Antonidas, discomfort in his voice, "And I have no idea why."

Kael frowned intently. "Prince Arthas, starting over from the beginning up to this point, could you detail what you specifically noticed of Lady Proudmoore? Her words, actions, emotions she showed."

"What exactly are you implying about my daughter, elf?" demanded Daelin.

The elf met his gaze steadily. "I am implying nothing, yet."

Arthas was having none of that. "Jaina is no traitor. You ask of her emotions? She hates the Undead, hates Scourge and their Cult, really has it out for Kel'Thuzad and any Necromancers. I've never seen her so angry or hateful in my life than when she fought them."

Kael's eyes furrowed in thought. "Interesting."

"And also still troubling of Jaina," said Antonidas.

"For what reason?" demanded Arthas.

Sylvanas spoke up, "Because, Prince Arthas, this suggests she had prior knowledge of the Undead, and encounters with these Necromancers. Such hatreds do not simply spring out of nowhere."

"Daelin... they're right," said Katherine softly.

Her husband looked betrayed. "Our daughter is no traitor! To us, to Lordaeran, or to Dalaran!"

"I didn't say she was, I know she's not," said Katherine, "But I'm still shaken about what she said to us when she came home. They _need_ to know, because they're right. She did know what was coming."

Arthas looked at them, extremely uneasy. "She... knew of the Scourge beforehand?"

King Terenas leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"She came to us a little over a week ago, and we noticed... changes in her behavior," said Daelin carefully, "She could not hide it from us. She looked at us, at our daily life, as if it was a priceless treasure that she could lose at any moment. Whenever she looked at me, there was guilt and so much sorrow in her eyes, eyes haunted in a way no one her age should be."

Arthas had an awful sinking feeling in his stomach.

"She told us something awful was coming," said Katherine, "That the Orcs had felt coming, had escaped their prison camps and fled across the sea to escape from it. Her words haunt me, she said that 'Death itself comes from the Cold North, and behind it looms a burning shadow. If it's not stopped, it will consume us all. Pay attention to what rumors you hear about Northern Lordaeron, and if the King Teranas or Prince Arthas ask your aid, give it. If all else fails, across the seas, to Kalimdor, is our last chance'."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the two elves. Kael's eyes were blazing. "How does she know of Kalimdor?!"

"Kalim-what?" asked Arthas, confused.

"It's a continent across the sea," said Kael warily, with anger and distaste, "It is not common knowledge, only known by our royal bloodline and those we trust with the secret. It... I should not speak of it, however, it is where the High Elves originally came from. Where our people were born from, and betrayed by both our old queen, and our old people who still most likely remain there."

"Old people...?" asked King Terenas.

"The Kaldorei, the Night Elves," growled out Kael, "Who banished us from out homeland for practicing Arcane Magic."

"Why?" asked Arthas in confusion, "That makes no sense. The Magi of Dalaran..."

Kael waved a hand. "It is an ancient dispute, well before even my time, that has little bearings here Prince Arthas, I ask that you all leave it at that and speak to no one of this knowledge."

There was a brief murmuring of compliance before Kael continued, "That Jaina has an inkling of this, and most likely knows about our former brethren, that she would suggest we seek them out if we fail against the Undead is baffling. Beyond that, 'Death itself comes from the Cold North', she knew the Undead were coming, and if cold north means what I think it means, then the Undead originated from Northrend."

Antonidas pulled on his beard. "It makes sense that Kel'Thuzad would flee to that desolate place to continue his experiments in secret."

"She was warning them though," said Arthas, confused by Jaina's deception, but still desiring to come to her defense, "She warned her family of this, asked them to help Lordaeran if we begged aid."

Kael tilted his head in acknowledgement. "She is most likely not a traitor, but her foreknowledge demands an explanation."

Arthas wracked his head, he could tell they all were. He desperately wanted to find an answer, but could think of nothing that didn't implicate Jaina in a negative way, a way he could imagine others might think of...

Alexandrous cleared his throat, "I think the answer is simple, if but troubling."

Uther turned to him. "Is it?"

"They attempted to recruit her," said the Paladin as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Damn... he had been hoping they wouldn't even consider it. **_HE_ ** didn't want to consider it, consider the possibility of Jaina having been involved the Cult.

So, he coughed, acting incredulous, "Recruit Jaina? They had to be out of their minds. She would never join the Scourge."

"Not knowingly," conceded Alexandrous, "But, if they attempted to lure the young archmage in with the promise of knowledge and power..."

"Jaina was never power hungry in the slightest," stepped in Antonidas firmly, "Curious to a fault and always eager to learn, perhaps, but _never_ power hungry."

"Then she was lured in through her curiosity, and when she finally realized what was going on, or perhaps when they tried to turn her fully to their cause, she ran the first chance she had," suggested Alexandrous.

The room grew silent in thought.

"I was surprised shortly before Jaina was sent out on her mission," said Antonidas thoughtfully, "I had only just noticed a sudden increase in her talents, wisdom, and maturity that I hadn't noticed before. I thought I had simply grown lax in my observations, than she was growing up and coming into her own. But perhaps she had outside tutoring, maybe even by these cultists."

"It... would make sense," said Katherine, "To be haunted by what I imagine she saw, and guilty that she had almost been deceived into partaking in this madness."

"I only question when this happened," murmured Antonidas, "She may be only an apprentice archmage, but she does not have _that_ much free time."

"Night is a time for sneaking out," said Alexandrous with humor, "Light knows I did it enough in my youth."

"Fair enough," said Antonidas, before coming to what Arthas felt was the crux of the problem, "But why not tell us? Any of us? Save for a vague warning to her parents?"

Sylvanas muttered something most likely crude in Elven under her breath before speaking, "Would you have believed her about tales of an army of Undead? About any of this?"

Antonidas gave her a critical look. "Of course I would."

"Is that a statement made in hindsight?" retorted the elf.

"No, it is not," said Antonidas firmly, "I trust Jaina greatly, raised her as my apprentice when she came to Dalaran. She is not one for delusions or fanciful tales or deception prior to whatever this all is. I would have trusted her word, and even if I did not fully believe her, I can guarantee without question that I would have at least launched an investigation into the matter!"

"Does she know that?" asked Arthas quietly.

Antonidas grew silent for a moment, closing his eyes as if pained. "If she doesn't, then I have failed in part as her teacher."

"She is young," said Abbendis, speaking for the first time, "And the young often have the problem of thinking they can handle any problems. She, from what I know, is a powerful archmage despite her youth and inexperience. She most likely feared her words being dismissed and resolved to handle the problem on her own."

Arthas had to resist the urge to flinch at that. How often during the mission had Jaina berated Arthas over that specific fault? Was it hypocrisy? Or her trying to make sure he didn't make her mistakes?

Abbendis continued, "Light knows enough young Knights and Paladins had that outlook in the Second War and lost their lives because of it. It was foolish of her, and had she come to you Antonidas, or the Silver Hand, or even the Crown, any would have taken her seriously, investigated, and perhaps stopped this before it came to this point."

"Now wait just a minute!" said Daelin, "We're not even sure this is what really happened."

"It is the most likely reason," countered Abbendis, "And you know it. How else do you explain her foreknowledge? How she acted?"

"Even _**IF** _ it's true, then perhaps she made a mistake, but to pin all of this on her is outrageous!" said Katherine.

On that, Arthas heatedly agree, "Let us not forget that _no one_ in this room had any idea prior as to what was going on. Not to mention the traitors who joined the Cult of the Damned and didn't make the choice Jaina did to turn away from it. Sole blame cannot and should not be laid at her feet."

Terenas raised his voice, brokering no disagreement, "Enough! We are not here to assign blame aside to those save the Scourge itself. We have dwelled long enough on this subject. When Lady Proudmoore awakens, she will be questioned and judged on this matter by this council. Until then, it is shelved."

The gathering shrinked like scolded children at that.

"Arthas my son," said the King, "Continue with the debriefing."

Arthas was more than happy to shift the discussion away from accusing Jaina of anything, "Very well..."

He told them of the Blight, the infection of the ground, how it seemed like the land itself was dead or dying. Of their fight through the first village they had found consumed by the Scourge. Their initial encounter with Kel'Thuzad and then the run to Andorhal. Then Andorhal itself and the odd final encounter with the necromancer...

"Wait," interrupted Kael, voice tinted with disbelief, "Kel'Thuzad implied that a _demon_ controls the Scourge?"

"He did not imply, he outright said it," stated Arthas.

There was a growl from the Paladins around the table.

"A demon?" said Saiden, "Light preserve us if this is true. As if the Undead weren't foul enough already."

"There's more, and something that both confuses and alarms me," admitted Arthas, "When I told him that the Horde's demons were dead, he called me naive and told me something. That the demons never belonged to the Horde, that the Horde belonged to the demons, and that the Horde sold themselves to the demons on a lie. It is one thing that struck me as important to the conversation. You know aside from demons apparently wanting to wipe out all life in our world."

There was a snort of derision from Saiden, "Destruction or the perversion of life is all a demon begets. That the Horde allowed themselves to be deceived is no concern of ours."

"What Kel'Thuzad is implying," said Kael quietly, eyes narrowed in intense thought, "Is that both the Horde and the Scourge were instigated by demons, and if so, there is more going on behind the scenes than what we are aware of."

The two elves shared a glance for a few moments, something intense passing between them, but made no further comment.

"We stood against the Orcs once," said Alexandrous firmly, "We will stand against the Scourge now, and if there is some demonic influence attempting to continual attack us, then we will route it out and destroy it."

"We are the Chosen of the Light," said Uther, "We will not fall to the darkness."

Arthas wished he had such steeled faith. After Hearthglen though... his best had simply not been enough, Jaina's best had not been enough. They had been battered and broken, if not for Jaina teleporting them away, they'd be undead slaves at this very moment. The Scourge were not some roadbump for the Knights of the Silver Hand to ride over, this was a true, deadly threat that could wipe out all life in Lordaeron.

Arthas chose to continue without prompting, "After the encounter, we ran for Heartglen with little rest. The battle there was... horrific. Even prior to it, the grain itself from Andorhal had been distributed in the town..."

"My own people died and decayed before my very eyes," said Arthas harshly, "Only to rise up moments later and attack us. Family against family, friend against friend. There are not _words_ to describe the madness of it all. Then the Scourge came, waves upon wave of rotting corpses and monsters came at us."

"Came up with names for a few of them," said Arthas in grim humor, "We called the basic ones Zombies, and the ones who crawled on the ground with long claws, Ghouls. The fat ones with open stomachs that were stitched together from multiple corpses...

"Good heavens," said Katherine, hand to her mouth in horror.

"...we called abominations. They had wagons that launched infected meat or Undead at us like a catapult. Their necromancers would re-raise their forces, or reanimate our fallen defenders right in front of us," said Arthas before his face truly darkened, "Then there was the Lich."

"Lich?" questioned Antonidas.

"It's what Jaina called it. It was a floating skeleton emanating dark magic from it's very being, and unlike the regular Scourge, it was intelligent and could speak," said Arthas grimly, "It was a powerful spellcaster, not originally stronger than Jaina, but it kept being reformed somehow and returned to attack us almost every other wave of undead. Jaina said it was being revived from something called a 'Phylactery'?"

Antonidas pulled on his beard. "I know what such a thing is in theory, an object to bind one's soul to, but I never knew of it to be put into practice. So these undead mages, these Lichs, can be remade each time they are struck down and sent back into battle? A dangerous strength."

Arthas nodded. "Both Jaina and I defeated it multiple times, but... the Undead just kept coming. As our numbers thinned, we had to separate to cover the entrances to the town. The Lich eventually overwhelmed Jaina, it..."

He frowned thoughtfully. "It tried to take her captive. Rather than just kill her before I could close the distance, it's lackeys dragged her to the Lich, and it tried to cast a sleep spell on her."

"Tell me Arthas, the Scourge reanimated mid-battle, did they seem... intelligent as you said the Lich was?" asked Antonidas grimly.

"Not really, from what I could tell," said Arthas.

"Reanimating someone of power most likely requires a more elaborate ritual or spellcasting," mused Antonidas, a shadowed look on his face, "Or they wanted her captured and punished for fleeing them, as..."

He looked uncomfortable, "...as killing her and dragging her corpse from the battlefield to be reanimated elsewhere would have been the more tactical decision."

Arthas, and Jaina's parents, both twitched squeamishly at that.

Arthas took a moment to calm his nerves before finishing. "I managed to intervene and get Jaina to safety before rejoining the fight. Eventually, as we started getting pushed back from the entrances, I realized something was wrong. It shouldn't have taken that long for Jaina's familiar to reach Antonidas, when I 'voiced' my concern, Jaina checked for her familiar, and said she couldn't feel it. She was shocked, and figured it must have been intercepted."

He closed his eyes remembering the final horrific moments of the battle. "They overwhelmed us, slaughtered the civilians like they were cattle. Jaina began casting her teleport spell, and the Lich nearly stopped her, it threw that spell faster than I could react and pierced her with a spear of ice. We're fortunate Jaina managed to finish the spellcasting before she collapsed. Otherwise... well... we'd be shambling corpses in their army right now."

"A gift of the Light that we didn't lose you lad," said Uther, a weary smile on his face.

Arthas couldn't find it in him to return the smile. Light, he was still so tired.

"Were there any observations you made of the Undead?" asked Alexandrous, "Formations? Abilities? Skills?"

Arthas closed his eyes and tilted his head back in reluctant thought. "All of the undead I fought aside from the Lich were mostly mindless slaves who just threw themselves at us with overwhelming numbers, no particular offensive or defensive formations. The Necromancers are simply dark spellcasters who hide behind their troops, to be taken out first if possible. I did not encounter any undead skilled in melee combat. Or of particular skill with a bow."

Sylvanas huffed. "Nor would you. It requires a certain dexterity and nimbleness to wield a bow and use it effectively. Rotting hands, stiff muscles, missing fingers would hempen that."

"That reminds me," said Arthas with distaste, "Severing body parts doesn't really stop the Undead unless it's their head, they'll keep crawling after you. Removing their head doesn't even work if they are skeletons. Those you have to smash to bits."

"Lovely," muttered Saiden.

"An advantage our troops need to be aware of before we set out," pointed out Abbendis, "Lest they be caught offguard and killed because of it."

When the room grew contemplative and silent, Terenas turned to Arthas. "Have you anything else to add my son?"

Arthas rubbed his eyes tiredly, "Not that I can think of this moment."

The King looked over the Prince for a moment before motioning to the door. "Then to bed with you my child."

Arthas flustered. "Father, it's not even noon yet!"

"You're still exhausted lad, any of us can see it," said Uther, "Take the time to rest and recover while you can. Once the offense against the Scourge begins, I doubt any of us will be getting much sleep."

Arthas opened his mouth to argue before his father tilted his head, his hand twitching in a motion for the Prince to look around the table. Arthas didn't need to, his father was right. In a war council was no place to argue about such a trifle thing. Though there was a dark thought whispering that they didn't trust him in the war council, that they thought him to young and inexperience. But, he banished the thought, infighting and doubting his fellows was ill advised when they had a war against the Undead to wage.

"Very well," said Arthas, rising to his feet, and making for the door...

* * *

The first thing Jaina became aware of was a hand combing gently through her hair, she tiredly opened her eyes, "Mama...?"

Katherine Proudmoore sat on the side of the bed Jaina laid on, reflexively fingering through her daughter's hair while lost in thought. But at the sound of her daughter's voice, Katherine turned, a deep smile of relief playing across her face. "Oh Jaina, it's good to see you awake. You gave us all a scare."

"Where...?" Jaina asked.

"You are in the guest wing of the Lordaeran Palace," explained Katherine.

It took Jaina's sluggish mind a little bit to process. "You came to their aid..."

"Of course we did sweetie," said Katherine gently, "Did you think we wouldn't after what you told us?"

Jaina merely closed her eyes, sighing in relief before she paused. "A-arthas, is he...?"

"I'm fine Jaina," came her Prince's stiff voice from the other side of the room.

She smiled, relieved to see him okay, her voice hoarse, "I'm glad..."

Arthas frowned briefly, before turning away and muttering, "I'll go get you a glass of water."

Jaina watched him go, confused by his abruptness. "Is he alright?"

"I suppose that depends on you my dear," mused Katherine, "Giving a boy like him a few days to stew on something is ill advised."

"Stew...?" Jaina asked, confused, "On what? The Scourge? We're going to stop them, I swear we will."

Katherine frowned, but didn't answer. "I'll go get you something to eat my child, afterwards... we need to talk, all of us."

Jaina could only stare at her in bafflement. "About what?"

Katherine stood up and made for the door.

Jaina froze up a bit, remembering the last time her mother had so abruptly turned away from her after condemning her for her father's death, "Mama?"

"It'll be alright dear, your father and I will stand beside you, were just... a bit upset you wouldn't trust more in us," said Katherine before leaving.

Jaina was even more lost now, and tried her best to sink into her pillow. "What is going on...?"

Arthas returned a minute later with a glass of water and set it not-to-gently on the stand next to the bed. At that, Jaina grew nervous. She knew Arthas, knew his tells, he was angry, frustrated, at her. She hesitatingly sat up in the bed, grabbed the glass, soothing her throat, before setting it down and looking at her Prince.

"Arthas," she began hesitatingly, "What's wrong?"

Arthas's looked darkened a bit, looking conflicted, before he moved to close the door and then walk back. "You know what, forget waiting for the council to be gathered. Why did you lie to _me_ Jaina?"

She blinked a few times, caught off-guard, and a bit frightened of that dark anger she saw, so reminiscent of the Death Knight Arthas, it more than terrified her. "W-what?"

Arthas closed his eyes, sighed with frustration, and tried to calm himself. "Why did you not come to me Jaina? I would have helped you get out."

"Out of what?" she asked.

He looked at her with disappointment. "Out of the Cult of the Damned."

Jaina stared at him in disbelief. What in the hell was he going on about?

"I know Jaina," he said sternly, "I know you didn't examine Kel'Thuzad's experiments. You never saw his notes, never even asked."

Jaina lost a bit of the color in her face. She had been caught in a lie, but, how did that possibly lead to...

"You also knew what a Lich was, hated the Scourge and Necromancers with a passion for only 'apparently' just encountering them for the first time, and lets not forget the warning you gave to your parents," he said heatedly, pointing a finger at her accusingly, "Death itself comes from the cold north, does that ring a bell, Jaina?"

Jaina shrank inward with each accusation. Oh light, she had screwed up so bad... but wait... they thought she... had been a cultist?

Arthas paused his tirade, took a look at her terrified form, and sighed once more, his anger deflating. "Look Jaina, I don't think-I know _you're_ not a traitor. They do to, but the fact that you told no one looks bad. Abbendis is pissed, wants to lay the blame for the Scourge getting this far at your feet. Antonidas, your parents, and I, are disappointed that you didn't come to forward with the full truth, didn't trust any of us to help you, to take action. Not really sure what my father, the other paladins, or the elves think at the moment."

For once, Jaina felt really, really small. They had the wrong conclusion about her, but... what he said...

"Y-you... would have believed me about the Scourge?" she asked, voice timid in a way it hadn't been in decades, "Without any proof?"

Arthas looked sad now, rather than angry; disappointed, whether in her or himself she couldn't tell at the moment. "Of course I would have Jaina, and I'm sorry I made you think and feel otherwise."

And then Jaina felt purely awful, could only force herself to look away. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid! She had felt alone, been alone, for so long now. Had she truly forgotten how much trust and faith people used to have in her, even before her efforts at Mount Hyjal? If she had been more forward, more direct, more blunt, could she have stopped the Scourge from even getting this far? Had so many people lost their lives, and would continue to lose their lives, because of her?

"I'm sorry," was all she could whisper, tears in her eyes, "I'm so sorry..."

Arthas sat next to her on the bed and pulled her into an embrace, "Shhh Jaina, it's okay, it's okay."

The door creaked open, Katherine walked in, took one look at them, and sighed. "I believe Arthas, that waiting for the Council, meant _wait_ for the council."

Arthas merely huffed in response.

"I take it she confessed then?" said Katherine.

_You confess then to standing aside while your father was murdered?_

Jaina could only bury her face into Arthas's should as the memory hit her, letting her tears free.

She felt Arthas nod, but he said nothing else.

"Very well, I'll inform the council," said Katherine wearily, walking over to set a tray of food down on the stand next to the bed, "You both will be expected in an hour. Eat and freshen up Jaina, no need to stand before the King with bedhair."

Jaina chocked back a small weak laugh at that.

With that, her mother left. Jaina didn't move from Arthas's embrace for some time, letting herself slowly and quietly cry out her misery and frustration, before she pulled away.

"Put some food in your belly Jaina," said Arthas, teasingly poking her stomach, "You're already thin enough as it is without starving yourself."

Jaina huffed and smacked his shoulder. "I'm not a twing, and I have some lump of muscle between me and my food."

Arthas grinned and moved off the bed, grabbing the tray of food and setting it before her. "For you my lady?"

Jaina smiled at the playfulness, before she slowly let it fade. "This meeting isn't going to pleasant."

"No, I imagine it's not," said Arthas, "Just... be as truthful as you can be, and don't be afraid. I'll stand by you, so will your parents, and Antonidas."

Jaina kept her head bowed, saying nothing, and eating slowly. Her mind kicked into overdrive. They thought she was a fleeing cultist, the only real conclusion they could come to without considering something ridiculous as time travel. In her time it wasn't really an absurd notion, what with all the messes within the Caverns of Time and with Hellscream. In this time though? It was an inconceivable concept. So... she had to play the part in order to mitigate damage, and hopefully make things end better than before.

Actually...

This might make things a lot easier.

She could freely disclose a lot of information, making it seem like she had overheard or learned of it while inside the Cult of the Damned. A part of her didn't like this, didn't like anymore lying and deception, but she knew it was necessary. She especially found the notion that she would have ever been a part of the Cult extremely distasteful. But...

She had been a part of many different interrogations involving captured cultists. They'd spin all kinds of tails trying to get themselves off the hook. Some she had detected were truthful, in that they hadn't known what they were really getting into until it was to late. That they had been forced to drink that elixir that bound them to the Lich King without having to become undead, couldn't for the life of her remember if they had a name for it, only that the Heroes of Azeroth had discovered it in Icecrown. The excuses really hadn't saved any of them, not with how much damage the Scourge had done. But... she could find a way to spin this to her advantage.

Light...

When had she allowed herself to become manipulative?

She hated it...

She finished her food and made for the washroom, finding that someone had left her a spare set of archmage robes, probably Antonidas, she began to strip before pausing, "No peeking Arthas!"

"I'm offended Jaina," Arthas called from the other room before taking a teasing tone, "Besides, nothing I haven't seen before."

Jaina blushed furiously before getting into a bath and quickly washing down. As much as she wanted to just relax, try to take the edge off her nerves before a confrontation, she had already used up to much time. She was out in five minutes tops, folding up her old clothes on the counter before dressing in the new ones. She stepped out a moment later.

She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Alright, lets... get this over with."

Arthas squeezed her shoulder gently before nodding to the door. It felt like a death march, to walk down these halls. Far worse than the march to her trial and exile in Dalaran before coming back in time. Arthas led her to the King's receiving room. She stared at it's occupants, taking them in one by one. King Terenas, aged, but living. Uther the Lightbringer, his wise and gentle caring gaze washing over her. The legendary (or soon to be once his blade was forged) Alexandrous Mograine, the original Ashbringer. Saiden Dathrohan (without the subtle taint of a dreadlord possessing his corpse). Abbendis senior, without the air of madness about him and fanaticism in his eyes. Antonidas, looked at her with an air of sadness. Her parents stood oddly to the side of the room, not at the table. Oh..., they were allowed in because they were her parents and the rulers of Kul Tiras, but, excluded from the position of questioning because of their relation and bias to her... probably told to keep quiet too.

Then her own eyes went wide to see two elves in the proceeding, both having formerly been twisted and damned in her time. Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, and Prince Kael'Thas Sunstrider. To seem them pure, untainted by undeath or demonic magic was...

Hard to describe.

No wait...

It was kind of like with Arthas, just not as deep. Hope, and yet fear. Both had been good once (and still were now), but were capable of absolutely monstrous atrocities if driven into damnation. Hopefully, Quel'Thalas would not fall, and both could remain as they were.

Finally, Princess Calia Menethil, and another young woman Jaina didn't recognize, stood at the position of record keepers for the gathering.

Terenas cleared his throat and addressed Arthas, "While I am _displeased_ that you did not listen, I will ignore it this time in favor of the acceleration in these proceedings, as there is no need longer a need to waste time prompting a confession out of her. But my son, you must learn well before you take the throne to not be ruled by your passions."

Arthas pursed hips lips. "Of course father."

Which wasn't really an admittance that he would curb it, Oh Arthas... always a stubborn man.

The King's eyes flickered to Jaina, a hardness to them. "Jaina Proudmoore. We have much to discuss."

"Yes your majesty," she said quietly, "We do."

"You will disclose all you know of the Cult of the Damned," a statement, not a question.

"I will," she answered.

The King nodded slowly, a slight relaxing of his shoulders, perhaps he had thought she would refuse to speak?

"While we do not wish to doubt you, and trust that you mean well, we will be detecting for lies within this session, it is in your best interest to be truthful," said Kael, just the tiniest hints of warning in his voice.

Oh boy... if they were using the spell she thought they were using, she was going to have to word things carefully. "Okay."

Antonidas pulled on his beard. "You don't seem as reluctant as I thought you would be."

Jaina bowed her head slightly, avoiding eyecontact. "I... Arthas... already told me, that he would have believed me if I had come forward before, even without proof... that you all would have as well... I..."

Antonidas sighed. "Dear child, that I gave you any reason to doubt in me troubles my heart. We will have a discussion, you and I, later on how best to fix this."

She was a bit surprised. "You'd still want me as an apprentice?"

"Of course," was his swift reply.

A soft smile came across Jaina's face.

Uther stood from the table and came forward, standing a few feet from her. "Lady Proudmoore, how were you approached by the Cult of the Damned?"

Okay... so was Uther was the questioner? A kind gentle face to lower one's guard to. She wasn't blind to that. Still, she could work with that question. Answer truthfully, just not for herself. "The Cult, from what I've observed and overheard, differs in it's approach, depending on the individual. Many, who are simply dissatisfied with their life, or have a heightened fear of death, are lured in with the prospect of immortality, though they won't understand or be told what kind until much later, when it's generally to late. To those that hunger for power and knowledge, they are offered both, lured and tempted into service. It doesn't take much for them to be fully converted to the Scourge's cause. Then, there are those like myself lured in by more subtle means."

She frowned briefly, recalling one of the interrogations she had participated in; forcing herself to look irritated and chagrined. "A pair of supposed Dalaran students, passing by their target in the Dalaran Library, whispering of discovering or practicing new magic, the perfect, tempting bait to lure in the curious."

"The Cult infiltrated Dalaran?" asked Antonidas, alarmed.

"They've infiltrated _everywhere_ Master," said Jaina with a truthful bleakness, "They're in every town, every agency, every church or group. If not as saboteurs, then as eyes and ears, or as sleeper agents to one day be used. They've spent years preparing for this."

There was a troubled and grim air around the room.

"Does that extend to Quel'Thalas?" inquired Kael, quietly, dangerously. Jaina could feel the truth spell in the air, tensing in anticipation.

Oh, she was going to enjoy setting this particular bastard up to die. "I... remember overhearing an elven name. Dar'khan Drathir."

Kael hissed, literally hissed, in anger, rising to his feet, hands slammed on the table. "The Magister?!"

Sylvanas had such rage in her eyes, rising from her spot and approaching Antonidas. "Send me back to Quel'Thalas _now_ , this must be dealt with immediately. A traitor at such a rank within Quel'Thalas can do unspeakable damage to our people."

The Archmage seemed a little ruffled by the disruption of the proceedings, but nodded. "Very well."

For an Archmage of his power, it took him but a few minutes time to teleport out with her and back in.

"I dread to even ask," said Uther tiredly, "Is there anyone in Lordaeran, or Kul Tiras, of high rank that belongs to the Cult?"

"The House of Barov," said Jaina.

"What?!" exploded King Terenas in an uncharacteristic display of anger.

He turned to Kael and demanded, "This cannot be."

"The Truth Spell rings true your Majesty," said Kael.

The King sat back in his seat, tiredly rubbing his eyes before moving his hand away, eyes blazing in righteous fury. "I considered Alexi Barov a trusted friend. That he would do this... the Barovs will be the first to answer for this treachery, this deep betrayal."

"You will need to be careful your Majesty, Scholomance is not to be taken lightly," warned Jaina.

"Scholomance...?" asked Antonidas.

"There is an entire school of magic and necromancy built underneath Caer Darrow in it's ancient crypts," explained Jaina, "At first, it seems alright, just another school of magic. But, in the depths of the crypts, is where the true horrors take place. Those they are still tempting and luring in remain in the upper levels, or are... or rather _were_ , kept in Andorhal until they were converted to their cause."

"There is an entire school of necromancy, _**IN** _ Lordaeran, **_NOT_ ** Northrend," stated Arthas from behind, teeming with rage, "And no one had a clue?"

"No," said Jaina softly.

"Light, just had bad is this going to be Jaina?" he asked, anxious in a way she had rarely seen.

"You have no idea Arthas, you truly have no idea," she said, turning her head to look at him, "I haven't even begun to really divulge all that I've seen and heard yet. It gets so much worse. I've yet to touch on the demons."

"You've seen one of these demons Kel'Thuzad mentioned? They are real?" barked Saiden, "Girl, why did it take you so long to flee them?"

"I have seen them, seen a dreadlord," said Jaina truthfully before going vague, giving excuses that Cultists had fed their questioners in another life, "As for why one doesn't leave? It's often to late. Your surrounded by cultists, and forced to partake in dark bloody rituals, sacrifices, lest you become one in your reluctance; your guilt keeps you there, thinking you're damned. If thats not enough..."

Her eyes flickered to her parents. "They threaten to kill your family."

Daelin closed his eyes, pained. "Jaina, I would have rather died then have you be forced into this Cult."

She smiled grimly before continuing, "And if that isn't enough, they'll make your drink their elixir. I don't know fully how it works, but I've seen it's effects. It will strip you of your free will, making you a living slave to the Cults will. It's... best to comply rather than be forced to drink that."

There was horror on her parent's faces.

"I suppose then I will get this out of the way and ask, did you drink this 'elixir'?" questioned Kael, magic buzzing in the air, searching for truth out of her words.

"No," she answered, "I did not."

Kael nodded, satisfied.

Uther however, was not, and had a grim look to his face. "You said you were forced to partake in dark rituals... sacrifices... Jaina, did you commit murder in the name of the Cult?"

She felt eyes on her, all eyes on her. She closed her eyes and answered in general, but not for the specific question, "I've killed, yes."

She thought of the Paladin's she had killed in Naxxramas, to aid Tichondrious in getting to the Book of Mediev, and her voice shook with a guilt she hadn't felt at the time, but strangely did now, "Innocents have died at my hand."

" _Jaina_ ," breathed Arthas, shocked and horrified.

She could feel him step away from her, and it _hurt_. All she could do was bow her head, not wanting to see the condemnation aired at her from the others.

"This... complicates things," mused Kael, "Her hands are not as clean as I would have hoped."

"Did you honestly really think they would be?" asked Jaina quietly, "The Cult of the Damned is aptly named. They make their members damn themselves as soon as they can, and keep trying to make them all dig themselves deeper and deeper until they can't see any way out."

"Then what made you finally get out?" asked Saiden, "What made you end this double life you were living? To finally turn on the Cult?"

This, was an easy answer, and a dangerous one, the real truth as to why she came back in time. "For the Love of a Prince."

"It's a bit much to think you can love the Prince while murdering his people," said Abbendis, his voice cool and icy.

"You have no idea what they planned for Arthas!" she said, her voice rising in anger, "No idea what they wanted to do to him, to make him do! How much damage they could do to Lordaeran with him as their dead soulless slave!"

King Terenas pursed his lips, agitated. "Explain."

"They wanted him as their first Death Knight," she whispered.

There was a sharp intake of breath behind her from the Prince.

Uther coughed. "Death Knight?! Like the Orcs?"

"Yes, and no," said Jaina, "I don't know the full process. But, they don't transplant a soul into the Death Knight. Most of the time, I believe they would intend to strip the soul from their chosen knight, making them an unfeeling, soulless killing machine for them to direct. For Arthas in particular... they intended to use him to..."

She looked at Teranas, "To kill you, and then make him destroy his Kingdom with his own hands. They would have had him march in here, and no one would have even thought to stop him, he's the prince after all. He has every reason to come here, to see his father, and no one would have second guessed something so normal. They would have made him come to his home, your arms opened in welcome and greeting, and had him run you through, then slaughter everyone in the resulting confusion."

Teranas held such fury on his face, his tongue tied in unspeakable rage.

Arthas's voice was shaky. He took a few steps past Jaina, and found himself a seat at the table, unable to stand. "Light... she's right, if they had reanimated me as their slave, I could have come in here unchallenged, taken any threats offguard, and killed everyone. No one would have suspected a thing until it was to late."

It was rare, to see Uther angry; Strathlome in the original timeline was one of the few, if perhaps the only time, she had seen it in person. She saw it now though. "Every word out of your mouth Jaina proves these heathens more despicable and damnable then before. Their plans are _insidious_."

"It's why I kept harping at you Arthas," said Jaina softly, "To not take on more than you can handle. To not be driven into a rage, to try to stop the Scourge alone, and become isolated, easy prey for the damned."

"It's kind of hypocritical Jaina," said Arthas, not looking at her.

"I was so afraid for you Arthas," pleaded Jaina, "For you, even... even _of you_ , what they would turn you into. I wasn't trying to be a hypocrite, I was trying to _save you_."

Arthas sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "Like your Master said, I wish you had just come to me with this before that mission. You let me walk into a _disaster_ unprepared Jaina."

"I'm sorry," was all she could whisper.

There was silence for a few minutes, until Teranas had worked through and controlled his fury. "Are there any other traitors you know of?"

Jaina closed her eyes in thought, trying to recall some of the more higher ranking Scourge. "In Kul Tiras, I never learned of any. But... for Lordaeran, well... there's so many people... or planned people that I'm not sure if the Cult has reached yet."

"A list of people to watch works just as effectively as prevention as does stamping out those who would betray and not seek redemption," said Alexandrous, giving her a pointed look.

What had been that woman's trade again? "I'm not sure any of you know her, but Botanist Faerlina..."

"The Flower Lady of Brill?" said Arthas in surprise, "Her?"

Jaina was surprised. "You know her?"

"I erm... might have bought some of the flowers I brought to you in Dalaran from her a few times," said Arthas, slightly embarrassed, mostly baffled, "What would the Scourge want with her?"

"They corrupt everything Arthas," said Jaina quietly, "A simple flower lady, a botanist, could be turned into a master poison maker."

She turned to Antonidas, "She also has great arcane potential, I'm not sure how Dalaran missed recruiting and training her."

The old Archmage pulled on his beard in thought. "People can reject our offer if they so choose. Though, I can't recall if we'd ever noticed or approached this 'Faerlina'."

Jaina nodded in acquisition, before her thoughts turned to would be Death Knights, she couldn't help her eyes flickering to Alexandrous.

The man in question looked affronted. "I am not cultist, nor would I have any disposition to become one."

"I didn't say you were or did," said Jaina, "But it goes without question, the Cult, the Scourge, plans to target and turn any and every paladin they can into powerful Death Knights."

Though, some had evaded this fate. Arthas, strangely, hadn't turned Uther or some of the Paladins he had personally killed into Death Knights in the origional timeline. Best to not be picky however and warn them all.

Alexandrous rubbed his nose, irritation across his face. "I see. I'll make sure our brothers and sisters are warned of being potentially targeted."

"It's not just Paladins, any powerful Knight or Warrior can be turned and gifted dark powers," she warned, "Baron Rivendare of Strathlome I'm fairly certain they've approached and turned him to their cause already."

"Rivendare," said Saidan in disbelief, glancing at Kael, who nodded.

Jaina snorted in derision, "How many times have you and will you all looked to him and his truth spell already? I question just how readily you would have believed me, and we're just getting started."

There was a moment of chagrin, but Antonidas cut it off, giving a placating gesture, "It's not that we doubt you about the Scourge, but you are accusing highly ranking people of treason, we _have_ to be certain."

Jaina crossed her arms and said nothing for a moment, before glancing at the table, "May I have a chair? This is going to take a long while, and I'd rather not stand the entire time."

Arthas stood and pulled a chair out, she couldn't help but notice she was kept from the table however, sitting a distance from it. She didn't comment on it though. She continued to think about some of the Scourge they had encountered in Northrend, but she didn't know many family names for them, or even their true names in the case of Lady Deathwhisper. So many people she simply didn't know where they had originated from, when they had joined the Cult, or if it had even been willingly.

"Do any of you know someone named Razuvious?" she asked, "They have him training warriors, and eventually plan to have him train Death Knights."

Alexandrous scowled. "If you are referring to who I think you are, he was an old captain in the Alliance of Lordaeran army against the Orcs. Nasty fellow with a poor disposition. However..."

The Paladin frowned. "His technique with a blade is one of the deadliest I've ever seen. While I'm certain Uther or myself could beat him in a fight with our Holy power, by weapon alone we'd lose."

Jaina's eyes widened slightly at the willing admission. She had never had the opportunity to really meet or interact with the original Ashbringer, he was more humble than she'd imagined.

Alexandrous flexed a gloved hand. "Not that I can wield well anymore anyway."

He shook his head. "Who else has fallen into the Cult?"

She rattled off every member she could remember. Bronjahm, Basaleph, Alumeth, Diodor, Ras Frostwhisper, Grimkor, Maleki, Malicia, Noth, Heigan, on and on the list went. Few were known, most were merely put into a list to investigate later. Then, she remembered something, from the original attempt to kill Kel'Thuzad. The reason they had failed...

"I... don't know if they've approached him or not at this point," said Jaina slowly, "There was talk of trying to convert a Priest of the Church by the name of Inigo Montoy."

Uther frowned. "I've met him a few times. He is faithful to the light, why would they target him specifically?"

"Faithful perhaps, but is he satisfied with his life?" she asked before pausing, recalling to her chagrin, some of the more despicable Heroes of Azeroth fishing out coins from the Dalaran Fountain and reading them off for their companions to hear, jeering at the wishes.

Sshe remembered his coin suddenly, ' _I wish I had my father back'_ , "Did he lose someone recently?"

Uther tilted his head back in thought. "Perhaps... I ran into him a few weeks ago, and he did seem rather downcast now that you mention it."

"They could use that to get at him," she warned, "Promising him a better life, or even to 'bring someone back from the grave for him'."

Uther nodded slowly. "There are many temptations in life. I'll meet with him when I get the chance, try to see his state of mind and pull him back on the proper path if he begins to sway."

"I think the final cultist I haven't touched on yet is Gandling," said Jaina.

Abbendis gave a loud sigh. "And here I was hoping I wouldn't have someone I considered a friend turn out to be a traitor and a heathen."

"He's a bit worse than most cultists I'm afraid," said Jaina, "He's the headmaster of Scholomance."

Abbendis pinched his nose and muttered, "Of course he is."

"He teaches many of the classes there, testing students to see where they best fit to serve the Scourge," said Jaina.

Abbendis, still in a foul mood, shot her a dirty look. "And what way did he determine you best fit to serve, hmm? How well did you fare in necromancy girl, how many did you reanimate as undead slaves?"

For a moment, Jaina just stared at him, speechless, then her vision turned red, she shot to her feet, and she exploded. " **I NEVER PRACTICED NECROMANCY! I NEVER DID THAT TO ANYONE!**!"

There were cackles of energy around her, beckoned by her rage.

"Jaina!" reprimanded Antonidas, "You will control yourself."

Jaina shook for a few moments, glaring bloody murder at Abbendis, before she closed her eyes and struggled for a moment to control her fury. She slowly sat down, opened her eyes, staying silent but staring icily at Abbendis. He merely met her gaze with equal contempt.

"Truth," said Kael, his voice curious, "Though that seems odd to me. Why would they not train you to be a necromancer?"

"There are many ways to serve the Scourge," she said bitterly, "Mage, necromancer, warlock, warrior, whatever. They don't particularly care so long as you obey them."

Saiden rubbed his chin for a moment, nodding. "I suppose it is a point in your favor that you did not partake in that particular abominable practice."

"A point indeed," said Arthas.

Jaina switched her gaze from Abbendis to Arthas, seeing the pure relief on his face. Oh Light... by going along with this charade, she had made him think she had fully participated in all the Cults activities. Just how much faith had he lost in her by her choosing to go along with this?

She forced herself to look away and simply stare at the table.

"This list is far larger than I would have dared fear," murmured King Terenas, "It will need to be investigated thoroughly within the next few days."

The King's eyes flickered to Jaina. "How much more is there for you to tell?"

She smiled thinly. "Have you ever heard of a flying city?"

The King _stared_ at her. "You cannot be serious."

"More like a flying fortress," she said, "The Dread Citadel Naxxramas. It's a floating, flying bastion of the Scourge, one of the biggest Necropolises ever made if I understand correctly."

Arthas turned to Antonidas in alarm. "Is such a thing truly possible?"

"Actually," murmured the elder Archmage, "I believe it is. There was talk, a few years ago, of trying to turn Dalaran into such a thing. Some of my fellow council members to bored with their lives turning to outrageous spellwork to amuse themselves. I was shown more than one spellcraft that was rather sound in theory. The suggestion was however shot down."

"So let me get this straight," said Arthas, "They could load an army into this 'Naxxramas', and fly it past any defenses we set up, and then drop it on us?"

Jaina wasn't sure the Scourge had every really done that... no wait, they had, but that was with the Ebon Hold. "Yes."

"Merciful light," said Arthas, running down his face, chin, and neck anxiously.

"I've only been there once," she said, an honest truth, "And the things I saw in there... are beyond your wildest horrors."

She licked her lips. "I... well... if you ever meet Patchwerk, you need to run. Really, really fast."

"Patchwerk...?" said Antonidas, "A rather odd name. Is this person a powerful cultist?"

Jaina laughed, and not in a good way. "A cultist? No, its a gigantic Abomination, has a cleaver larger than any person in this room. It's more than twice the size of a standard Abomination, far faster and far stronger as well."

Not that it had lasted long against Tirion with the Ashbringer and Khadgar.

Arthas made a chocking noise. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Truth," muttered Kael before eyeing Jaina, "What other monstrosities are the Scourge creating?"

"I... don't think it's completed yet, but within Naxxramas exists a creature called a 'Flesh Titan', they named it Thaddius," said Jaina.

"A _flesh_ titan," spat Saiden, "Merciful light, this simply doesn't end."

"It's like an abomination, but more humanoid, with machines in it," she explained, "I... think they planned to give it electrical powers."

Truthfully, Jaina didn't know when the Scourge had started working on Thaddius, or if Patchwerk was even made yet either. "There were a few more monstrous things in there. One was a giant spider, I believe they called her Maexxna. The other is some kind of giant plagued hound, they called it Gluth. It... eats people, even cultists."

"Serves them right," muttered Arthas under his breath.

"There's some kind of fungal monster called Loatheb," she said, "Then, there's the Crypt Lord, Anub'Rekhan."

"What is a 'Crypt Lord'?" asked Alexandrous.

"It's kind of like a giant beetle," she said, "A giant armored beetle with really sharp talons."

"That doesn't sound that bad compared to some of the other things," commented Arthas.

Jaina gave him a stern look. "Please don't underestimate anything the Scourge creates or reanimates Arthas. Crypt Lords are deadly. They are intelligent, extremely resilient, like walking battering rams."

Jaina opened her mouth to finish with Sapphiron before pausing. Wait... a minute... when did they Scourge kill and reanimate the dragon? Hadn't Arthas been the one to kill and reanimate him?

"Some other monster they keep in there we need to know about?" asked Saiden in exasperation.

"Umm... they want to get a dragon," she said.

Kael made a face. "A dragon?"

"They want to kill and reanimate a dragon and put it in the citadel," she said, "There are many cultists who dream of becoming strong enough to reanimate one as a Frost Wyrm."

"Pray they do not succeed then," said Kael tightly, "The last thing any of us need are Undead Dragons to fight against."

"I think... that's it about Naxxramas," said Jaina, "I don't, unfortunately, know where it is right now."

King Terenas's face was stony now, eyes glazed over, as if the mounting horrors simply didn't surprise him any more. "We have how they attract their members, a list of these members, some of their goals, and Naxxramas. Is there anything else pertaining to the Cult or the Scourge we need to know?"

"Umm...," she said, fidgeting, "Well.. for schemes and plans they would employ. All it takes is a single vial of the plague put into a town well or water supply and it's over. The same for a bakery. Such places all across Lordaeran need to be guarded with people you can trust, preferably a Priest or a Paladin who can sense for the vile energy the Plague of Undeath gives off."

"With the offensive that is to come," said Alexandrous quietly, "Would we have the numbers to do this? We would be stretched absurdly thin."

Uther rubbed his chin, conflicted. "We will have to see where we stand once the Silver Hand finishes gathering. But she is right, we can't abandon the populace to this."

"Aside from that, the Scourge really just plan to use overwhelming numbers, and incognito cultists, to do a lot of the work for them," said Jaina, "A single well placed cultist masquerading as a guard or a civilian or whatever can do so much damage. What those two strategies fail to deal with, they have their more powerful servants to use and send in."

"Hmph, so eliminate the need for skill," spat Abbendis, "Just throw bodies at any problem. Pah."

"There is... one final matter with the Cult and the Scourge that needs to be addressed before I talk about the demons..." said Jaina.

"Light, I forgot about the demons with all of this," muttered Arthas.

"...and that is the Lich King," she said, ignoring the interruption, "The Lord of the Dead."

The focus on her suddenly was no longer reluctant and chagrined to hear more horror out of her mouth, but intense; Alexandrous leaned forward. "Their leader?"

Jaina nodded. "The Lich King resides in the heart of Northrend on what the Scourge call the Frozen Throne."

She phrases her continuation carefully. "I haven't met this Lich King, and I'm glad I haven't. I'm told that he has immense mental and magic powers, that he can control any Scourge anywhere in the world at will and direct them."

It was funny in a way, that changing ' _the_ Lich King' to ' _this_ Lich King' made her initial statement truthful. She had, after all, never met Ner'Zhul.

"What this means then, is if he doesn't come to us, and I see no reason why he would when he has an army of undead slaves to throw around, that we will eventually need to journey to Northrend to put an end to this," said Alexandrous.

"That, is something for a much later date," cut off King Teranas, "Lordaeran must be secured well before we think of any offensive away from our lands."

Uther nodded. "Agreed, now, Jaina, tell us of these demons, this... dreadlord I think you called it earlier?"

"A dreadlord, or Nathrezim as they call themselves, are a great winged humanoid demon," said Jaina, "They are muscular, have horns coming out of their head, wings on their back, very sharp talons, and are expert spellcasters."

"I never met Mal'Ganis," said Jaina, "But I've heard of him. The more recent dreadlord, one I've had the misfortune of speaking to, was one called Tichondrious."

"You didn't just see one at a distance, you spoke to one?" asked Arthas in disbelief.

Jaina nodded and grew bitter. "They are treacherous creatures, never believe a single word out of their mouths. Even if there is an ounce of truth in what they say, they is something deliberately hidden, any offer they make, a horrible hidden price."

"There is... nothing quite like being in the presence of something so malevolent," whispered Jaina, shivering a bit, "If there is anything to be define as truly evil, it is a dreadlord. They, as I understand it, currently direct the Scourge. Though, as Kel'Thuzad hinted, the Scourge chaffs under them."

"Infighting?" questioned Saiden.

"Not at the moment," said Jaina, "I don't think the Scourge would risk it yet, especially..."

She trailed off, wondering how to proceed. Should she try to hint about the Legion? Would anyone in this room even know about them? Kael should know if he knew his elven history, which an elf of his station should know. Antonidas maybe, if he had any involvement with the Council of Trisfal prior to its disbandment after Medeiv's mess in the second war. Actually, yeah, he had to know, as the defacto ruler of Dalaran he would know. So she could tell them without any real disbelief. However, she couldn't just say she 'overheard' anything, that would ring false to the Truth spell. How could she word this to warn them of the Legion? Wait... Tichondrious...

"Especially since Tichondrious said something about a 'Legion' having a second chance by coming here," said Jaina, before adding in a naive sounding comment, "I think there's a lot of demons keeping a close eye on the Scourge."

Jaina both felt and saw Kael lose all color in his face. The sharp intake of breath from Antonidas as he gripped the table as if for dear life.

"Something you would care to explain you two?" asked Saiden, giving them an unimpressed look, "I have the feeling her words meant something more to you than it did to us."

"If this demon's words are true," said Kael in a harsh voice, "This is worse than any of us could possibly imagine. For all the horror's we've heard of the Scourge, they serve as a front for someone much worse."

Oh yeah, he knew alright.

Kael and Antonidas exchanged a silent glance, a silent communication, before Antonidas spoke in perhaps the most serious and severe tone Jaina had ever heard from him. "What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. This is a secret of our worlds history, a dark secret. I ask that Calia and Brigitte temporarily leave until called back in."

Oh, that's who the other woman was, Abbendis's equally crazy brat. Though, not quite crazy yet. Calia left without a word, though Brigitte made a face at her father who shoed her out.

Antonidas spoke in solemn tones. "The 'Legion', or Burning Legion as they are called, is a vast host, a demonic army of the size this world has only seen once ten thousand years ago. They invaded and attempted to destroy our world, only to be repelled, at a great cost. According to the elves, our world was once one large landmass, but the cataclysm of the Legion's defeat rent our world asunder. There have been many smaller incursions, between now and then, of which Dalaran and the High elves have dealt with, but this is the first..."

He paused. "No, the Horde, if what Kel'Thuzad implied is true, was the Legions first invasion, if but through another front, since that time. We suspected this, but never had concrete proof."

"So you are saying," said Uther, "That the Scourge is a front for some demonic army?"

"Yes," said Kael, "One that seeks to consume us all."

The silence was palpable and heavy, no one saying anything, before Kael turned to Jaina. "How exactly did you know of Kalimdor?"

Jaina turned her head to Antonidas, eyebrow raised. "You've met the prophet. He is the one who first told me of Kalimdor."

Antonidas snorted in derision. "That madman? You believed his words?"

She scoffed in equal derision. "The dead rise and fight against us, and a army of demons wants to invade our world. Yes, I believe him."

Antonidas paused at her remark. "Well, when you put it like that."

Kael's eyebrows furrowed. "What is this about a Prophet? A madman?"

"Not to long again," began King Terenas, eyebrows furrowed in thought, "A shapshifter flew into my audience chamber while in court, spouting words of doom, he... did mention Kalimdor by name now that I think on it. That name meant nothing to me at the time."

He regarded Jaina. "What do you know of this... shapshifter?"

"I've only talked to him... two times I think, prior to his attempt to talk to Antonidas before I set out with Arthas," said Jaina, "He's not very... specific or coherent, rambles a bit, is very secretive. But, he means well. He believes that by going west across the sea, to join with those who live there, can we stand against what is coming."

Kael's eyebrows furrowed. "You... forgive me, I'm feeling a bit lost at the moment Lady Proudmoore. You've encountered this 'madman' before. When? During your time in the Cult?"

"No," she said, growing vague, "I met him long before I first sinned."

"And you belived him...?" asked Kael.

"The first few times I saw him, spouting doom and gloom well before there was any concrete signs or proof, no," she said, wondering if she should tell them he was Medeiv... perhaps not yet, "But by the time I saw for my own eyes what the Scourge can wrought? Yes. I heeded his words..."

"How exactly?" said Abbendis, suspicious, "Would you heed his words as a loyal dog of the Cult he was apparently warning people about?"

Her mother looked like she wanted to throttle Abbendis, but Jaina beat her to any action, shooting him a terse look. "I have _**NEVER**_ been loyal to the Cult of the Damned. For all the sins you can lay on my feet, **_that_ ** is **_not_ ** one of them. I've wanted to destroy them from the moment I first encountered them."

She grew hushed. "I just never could, not on my own."

The table as a whole looked to Kael, who nodded, just a tint of relief in his face. "Truth."

Antonidas seemed to wash off any last doubts. "Jaina, again, you should have come to us, any of us, rather than let it sully you like this. No fear of the Scourge or threat to your family or doubt of our believing in you should have held you back."

She closed her eyes and sighed softly. "I know that now."

"I think, unless you have anything else to reveal to us, we can wrap this up," said Uther, "There are many actions that need to be taken with the information you have given us."

"Not... that I can really think of at the moment, but...," she said, opening her eyes, "Kel'Thuzad had told us to seek Mal'Ganis out in Strathlome. If that's where the demon was, its... probably fallen to the Scourge, it's entire populace turned."

And wouldn't the Arthas of her time before he became a Death Knight have been smug about being proven right about purging the city?

There was an aweful silence in the room for a minute before Saiden sighed. "Most likely, yes, we will have an entire city turned against us on top of the outlying villages. All those souls lost... something we will take into consideration."

Uther nodded slowly before tilting his head to study Jaina for a time. Despite her own true age and experience, having stared down immensly powerful demons and champions alight, being the sole subject of Uther's gaze made her feel small, inadequete. Staring down Archimonde was a kinder thing, she knew what to expect from that monster. Uther? She figured the King had appointed him as both the Judge and Jury here. He would decide her fate. He was a kind man, but he was not afraid to met out retribution to those who deserved it.

She had killed an entire timeline by falling for Tichondrious's scheme (she still wasn't certain she wouldn't have taken the offer anyway had she known in advance). She had probably murdered more people than anyone else in existence in doing so, unless she counted Medivh in his multiple uses of that same spell. She deserved retriubtion for that, not this fake Cultist accusation they had come up with on their own. It was better this way for her goals, even if she had lost so much faith from everyone present. Still... the guilt was there, and it made her look down, breaking the connected gaze, in shame, feeling unworthy.

Uther, apparently took that as his que to speak, "Jaina Proudmoore. There is no simple or easy way to say this. You committed a serious crime in participating with the Cult of the Damned. Coercion or not, it does not condone nor excuse the death of innocents. As much as it pains me to say, there is always another choice; you could have given your own life up before taking another's, rather than let it stain your soul. You let fear and indecision rule you, and others paid the price for it."

She could have given up on Arthas, and refused Tichondrious, preserving the timeline where they had won against the Legion.

But she wasn't the person she had been so many years ago.

Just a bitter old woman.

"Still, when push came to shove, and you had to choose the Scourge or Lordaeran, you chose to conquer your fear and walk the right path. You fought against the Cult, the Scourge, with the intent to save lives and stop them. In coming here before us, and telling us everything, rather than fleeing, you show a willingness to right this wrong. You are not evil, any of us here can see that, simply young and misguided, forced to make terrible choices in a terrible situation. The Order of the Silver Hand belives in redemption, so I ask you Jaina Proudmoore, do you seek it?" spoke Uther on solemn tones.

"Yes," she said quietly, looking up to meet his eyes.

She wanted to make this timeline better, so much better than the old one. She had come for Arthas, and Arthas alone initially. But now she wanted more. Wanted to make up for the lives she ended, for taking away their victory. She had to strive for an even grander one, one perhaps with less loss than before, and a more **_stable_** peace.

She was not blind after all.

If the Horde and Alliance weren't going to have gone to war again in mere months after she had made her decision to go back in time, she would have eaten her left foot.

"If no one has any objections," said Uther, pausing briefly to glance around the room, eyebrow briefly raised at Abbendis who simply shot him an annoyed look, he turned back to Jaina, "Then we are willing to give you that chance. We will not forget what you did, as forgiveness is not the same as forgetting, but if you aid us in stopping the Scourge, and you will have our forgiveness."

"I will do everything in my power to stop the Scourge, stop the Legion," she said.

Uther smiled. "I'm glad to hear it lass..."

They all turned theirs heads suddenly as a furious knock came at the door and Calia's voice shouted through, "Father! Emmisaries from Ironforge and Stormwind have arrived and beg an audiance!"

King Teranas stood from his chair, eyebrows furrowed. "Enter my daughter."

The girl threw open the door and took a few steps in, naked fear in her eyes. "Both emissaries speak of an Undead Scourge plaguing their lands and ask for our help!"

The shocked hush that came over the room didn't affect Jaina. Tichondrious's laughter echoed in her mind, a dark and twisting howl that shattered through her. All she could do was stare at the Crown Princess of Lordaeran in pure and utter horror. By the Light... what had she done? Why had she even considered taking this deal with the dreadlord? There was no way she could outscheme a demon.

For she wasn't blind.

It took her only moments to figure out why Tichondrious was starting up additional Scourge invasions (how had he managed to do this for two additional kingdoms in little over one week's time?!). He wasn't doing it to destroy the kingdoms, no, it was more specific than that...

He was targetting the Heroes of Azeroth.

Those who would be hardly trained, not starting their journies for a few years to come, and ill prepared for the sudden onslaught.

While Jaina had been trying to secure her past, Tichondrious had been securing the Legion's future by eliminating or reanimating those who had played such a crucial part in their defeat...

Who had stepped up to stabalize their respective nations and kingdoms, who had risen up to challenge the Scourge, the Old Gods, the Legion, and so much more. Without them... how bleak was the future going to be? Was there even still a chance without the majority of them alive? Was he also targetting the Horde at this moment? The Night Elves?

What had she done?

**_What had she done?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about splitting this into two chapters, the initial meeting and Jaina's interrogation, but decided to just keep it together.
> 
> So yeah, congratulations WoW players, Tichondrious is in the process of killing us all off while were still noobs! (Well, rather I am. OCs are not a thing in this, or I'll keep them to an absolute bare minimum).


	8. Night Raid

Jaina had yet to fall asleep, mind haunted by all the ways this change in the Scourge and the Legion's tactics would cause so much damage to Azeroth's chances of survival. She couldn't automatically assume the Scourge had targeted races and civilizations outside of the Eastern Continent, though there was a high chance. Worse case scenario prior to confirming that was that Ironforge and Stormwind fell. The Scourge would gain an immense population boost, and damn near a quarter of the potential Heroes of Azeroth would fall (close to half for the Alliance). That alone could almost fully cripple their chances of defeating the Legion...

The Legion...

She couldn't let them be summoned.

Medivh had implied that the longer it took for the Legion to be summoned, the worse off things would be. Jaina didn't know if she should believe that, especially with this turn of events. If they could survive the Scourge, they might need to stop the Legion's arrival in order to buy Azeroth's races time to repopulate and recover, which could take hundreds of years, maybe thousands, depending on how much damage was dealt. There were so many variables to consider, and she wasn't a tactician.

Still... there was no guarantee the other nations would fall. Ironforge and Stormwind were different from Lordaeran, both in size, structure, strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps they could weather the storm better. Not to mention, even with Lordaeran now under siege from the Scourge, they were still willing to help. Alexandrous Mograine had briefly met with a council of the Silver Hand before departing with a squadron of Paladins and priests to Ironforge. Gavinrad the Dire had left for Stormwind with a squadron as well. Jaina hoped that Alexandrous and the King of Ironforge would be crafting the Ashbringer a little earlier this time around.

On the other hand, here in Lordaeran, they marched tomorrow for Scholomance. It promised to be a nasty mess, that Jaina knew without a doubt. They expected her to lead them into the hidden school of necromancy once they arrived, using her supposed 'time as a cultist' against the Scourge. She had walked through Scholomance's ruins with the Silver Hand and the Kirin Tor after it had been cleared of hostiles back in her time, to detail and determine the horrors that had been done there. She knew its general structure, but didn't know of its exact defenses and occupants. The only true threats, aside from the Scourge's general forces, were Gandling, Alexei Barov if he had been turned into a Death Knight, and the lich Ras Frostwhisper, but she wasn't sure he had been converted yet to that stage.

She sighed softly to herself, rolling in her bed in her parent's quarters. While she was given the chance for 'redemption', she was to not be allowed to be alone, had to always be under watch or with someone until she had distinctly proven herself without a doubt. She didn't particularly mind it, she suspected they would rotate her with her parents, Antonidas, or different Paladins. And wasn't that a slightly terrifying thought? Her parents were not just 'royalty', they were fighters, warriors, and her father was an expert commander and navel officer. They would be in the thick of things, and that sent shivers of dark anticipation rolling down her spine. She had lost so much before, she didn't want to start losing those close to her once again...

She grumbled a little and rolled over again.

"Jaina," came her mother's tired voice, "Can't you magic yourself to sleep? You've been tossing and turning for hours."

Jaini winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine," answered Kathrine, "Just..."

There was a pause as the distant sound of a bell tolled, making Jaina's eyes furrow in the darkened room. "What in the...?

Her father was out of bed in a flash, pushing aside a curtain to peer out into the moonlight, "That's an alarm bell."

Jaina's heart skipped a beat. The Scourge couldn't possibly be... not already! They hadn't attacked the capital area until after Arthas...

Oh.

Arthas wasn't on his way to Northrend, and not only had Hearthglen fallen, but all of Strathlome by now. There were a lot more active Undead at the moment...

Jaina snapped her fingers, lightning candles in the room with magic, and rolled off her bed, scrambling for clothes and her staff, her parents doing the same. They burst out of the room into a hallway of tired-but-alarmed guards rushing down the hall.

"Move it men!"

"Is the capital under attack?"

"No, it can't be, that bell is not close enough, that's Brill's bell!"

"Light have mercy, the towns practically defenseless!"

"Well then _**GET A MOVE ON**_! It's at best a ten minute sprint!"

Arthas's voice boomed down the hallway. "To me men! I will lead and command the first response while my father and Lord Uther prepare the army to move out."

"I'm going with Arthas," Jaina told her parents, slipping off into the mass of guards.

"Jaina wait!" came her mothers voice, but she didn't listen.

She came to a small gathering of guards in the main hallway, with Arthas at the front. She moved through the mass and came to stand before her prince. He gave her a brief look over, amusement coating his face when his eyes landed on her head. "Bed head, Lady Proudmoore?"

She huffed a little. "Well, not all of us can look so regal and princely all the time."

That got a small wry smile out of him before he turned towards the Palace entrance. "Stay close to me Jaina."

"Always, Arthas."

The group moved, rushing through the capital city and making for the town of Brill. Even at a distance she could see the town was on fire. They arrived a short sprint later into utter madness. Civilians were fleeing the town, screaming in terror while guards and lagging civilians were overun by swarms of ghouls ripping and tearing them to shreds. Jaina aimed a hand and released a bolt of chain lightning at the closest undead rushing for Brill's survivors, bouncing between one ghoul to another.

"For Lordaeran! For my Father the king!" roared Arthas, blitzing into the battle.

Despite the small size of their group, one Paladin and one Archmage and a handful of footmen and knights was more than enough to wipe out the initial mass of ghouls swarming the town. They went building to building, clearing out undead and saving trapped civilians.

"Git the hell out of my shop you filthy mongrol!" came a shrill female voice.

Jaina briefly turned her head to see a ghoul wrapped in vines tumble out of a dimly lit shop, a redheaded woman with brown eyes in a dirty green shirt and pants stepping out and putting a rifle to the things face before blowing it off. "Harumph."

There was a small laugh from Arthas. "Did they ruffle your flowers botanist Fearlina?"

Wait, _that_ was Grand Widow Fearlina? Not quite so grand yet, kind of looked like a country bumpkin if she had to say.

The woman looked over at him, raising her rifle to lean against her shoulder. "Well if it isn't the Prince. Here to bash undead or buy more flowers for your mystery woman?"

Arthas motioned to Jaina. "Well, my woman isn't so mysterious anymore."

Jaina's heart skipped a beat. Did he really still mean that? Still want her after that whole 'cultist revelation' mess?

Fearlina looked delighted. "Ah! He's been promising to introduce you for months. Never came through though, like most men, right?"

Jaina's lips twitched a little with amusement. She liked Fearlina when she wasn't a crazy spider lady cultist. "Of course."

"Hey!" said Arthas.

"M'Lord! They come again from the north!" cried out a footmen.

It was more than ghouls this time. So much more. It felt like Hearthglen again as Abominations thundered into the dimly lit town, their gaping stomach with protruding bones glistening in the moon and torchlight. Hooded necromancers and cultists lurked in the shadows, ushering zombies and ghouls into the fray. The creaking of meat-wagons sounded in the distance before the disgusting 'sploch' of raining body parts hit nearby buildings.

"Hold fast!" roared Arthas, "The King marshals the army as we speak, they will not take another town from the people of Lodearan!"

"Maybe this will help then," said Jaina, raising her hands to the sky.

A wall of ice surged up from the ground infront of the Undead, between two buildings, briefly blocking them out of the town from that entrance. The Undead slammed into the barrier, hacking away at it.

"That'll get us a minute at most," said Jaina, focusing her concentration, "Less if they go around."

"You know Jaina, that's a nice ball of undead massed right there," Arthas commented, eyeing the swarm battering the ice wall.

"Way ahead of you Arthas."

She called down sheets of ice, unleashing a blizzard on the undead, piercing through and dropping ghouls and zombies, only damaging the abominations unfortunately. Her wall fell a moment later, then the undead poured into Brill. The clashing of metal, guttural screams of the undead, cries of the living, ripping and tearing of flesh, cracks of rifles, the barrage of sounds was almost deafening. Jaina cast one spell after another into the mass of Undead.

"We meet again girl, our King still demands an audience," came a loud, chilling voice.

"Oh hell," spat Jaina, sighting the Lich Ordin Frostbane floating towards the battle from the treeline, "Arthas! Problem!"

"I see him, how many times do you think we're going to put him down this time?"

"To many times."

"Agreed."

Jaina redirected her focus on the Lich, throwing a bolt of lightning at him. To her surprise, the Lich raised a hand and caught the spell, waving it's bony fingers and redirecting it into Brill's defenders. Jaina hissed in outrage, gathering her power for something stronger.

"You will find that I am more than I was before," taunted the Lich, blowing apart the defenders between him and Jaina, stalking closer.

Jaina unleashed a cone of cold, briefly freezing the Lich before it shattered free. "The Lich King rewards his servants who serve him well. My power now trumps yours, little girl."

"But not mine," came a deadly calm elderly voice.

A massive fireball blew past Jaina and slammed into the Lich, exploding and sending it flying into thousands of little pieces with hardly a moments notice.

"For Lordaeran! For the King!" came Uther's voice.

Jaina turned to see Antonidas arriving on horseback, Uther and a mass of troops at his heels. Even King Teranas himself was here, charging into battle with his sword raised. The Capital's forces poured into Brill, as did the Undead. It was a mass of chaos she hadn't seen in awhile, and especially not against the undead. Originally, she hadn't fought in a mass battle against the Undead (and demons) until Hyjal. It had mostly been smaller skirmishes. War and conflict had grown from then on in, but full army against army rather than smaller battles or the Heroes of Azeroth taking care of things hadn't been that common for her to participate in.

She couldn't say she really appreciated being jostled around and unable to move in a sea of armored men trying to get to the battle.

She was suddenly teleported away and right next to Antonidas, giving out a startled yelp. "Oh, uh, thank you Master."

"The front lines are no place for an Archmage," said Antonidas mildly, "We will support the army from the back and bring ruin to the Undead who plague us so."

And bring ruin they did.

There were no words to describe what she felt, standing side by side with her Master raining destruction on the Scourge from afar. She had never had the chance to do this before, Antonidas had bid her to flee Dalaran when Arthas had arrived. She had never stood with him in battle like this. It filled her with pride, but also sorrow and longing for what had been lost before.

"Jaina, our troops could use some lighting if you would," said Antonidas.

"Lighting?" she asked.

"The light ball spell Jaina," he said tiredly, "It was one of the first tricks I taught you. Focus on that please, I will maintain the offensive."

Ooooh, she hadn't used or thought of that since she had actually been an apprentice Archmage. Jaina aimed a hand into the air and released a pulse of energy, contracting and pulling it together to form a illuminating blue sphere, aiding the pale moonlight in revealing the dark battlefield with a blueish tint. She refocused and resumed her spellcraft, keeping a small trail of energy feeding the spell as she worked.

"Impressive multi-tasking," mused Antonidas as he rained balls of fire down on the Undead, "I wasn't aware of you could maintain spellwork and cast other spells yet. Something from your time in the cult?"

Jaina gave a strained smile and evaded directly answering. "I've learned many things since I was a young apprentice my Master."

Antonidas huffed a little. "You are still young child."

"Only in body," muttered Jaina under her breath.

Judging from the sad look Antonidas quickly gave her, not quiet enough.

The battle lasted another hour, the Lich coming back only twice more only to instantly be blown apart by Antonidas and Jaina's combined spellcraft, before the Undead started tapering off, and then abruptly stopped coming. A great cheer and roar erupted from the army at their victory. Jaina didn't let a sound escape her lips, this was just the first of many battles. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and found a nearby crate to sit on while the army and the leadership sorted itself out.

"Nice magic show lady," came Fearlina's voice.

Jain turned to see the woman, her clothes now tinted black with gunpowder, and red with a bit of blood. "Thanks."

"So, I never got a name for the Prince's mystery woman," Fearlina said slyly.

"Jaina Proudmoore," Jaina answered.

"Oh, of Kul Tiras right? I've heard of you," Fearlina answered.

Jaina nodded and closed her eyes, letting a tired sigh escape her lips. "Yeah, that's me."

"Here, free of charge."

Jaina opened her eyes and blinked at an offered mana potion, before offering a soft thanks and guzzling it down. "You make potions?"

"I am a botanist, herbalist, whatever the heck you people want to call me," said Fearlina cheekily, "Makes a nice profit."

Jaina tilted her head to study the would-be Grand Widow. Fearlina had a well paying job, most likely had friends and was respected, even Arthas liked the woman, and Jaina could get nothing ill, vile, or evil from the woman's presence. So why had she joined the cult of the damned originally?

"Fearlina," said Jaina slowly, "You saw those robbed men and necromancers, right?"

"Yeah? What about them?" asked Fearlina, resting her rifle on a crate and crossing her arms.

"Have any of them approached you about joining them?" asked Jaina, "Or have you had any thoughts of joining them?

"What? No!" said Fearlina in disbelief, affronted, "Where does that question even come from? I am not some undead loving freak!"

"Perhaps not, but you were targeted to become one," said Jaina, "Forget the robbed men then, I want you to think: Has _anyone_ approached you before now, offering knowledge and power, eternal life, or employment?"

Fearlina frowned. "Well, I was offered a job earlier this week by an envoy of House Barov to tend to their gardens. I had packed up most of my shop, and was planning on leaving tomorrow to go and take the position..."

Jaina took in a breath and let it out. Guess that answered it. In the original way of things, Arthas would have went to Northrend, and in the downtime between his dark return, Fearlina would have taken the job and been drawn into the madness of the damned. "Then its a good thing you didn't get a chance to go then. House Barov is a front for the Cult of the Damned."

Fearlina lost a bit of color in her face. "Oh... but... why target me? I'm just a flower lady!"

"A botanist could be turned into an expert poison maker," said Jaina, "And, you also have a great deal of magical potential."

Fearlina blinked. "I do?"

Jaina grinned. "Here, let me show you."

She stood and reached over, grabbing Fearlina's hands and uncrossing the woman's arms while she watched with confusion and curiosity. Jaina closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the heat within the woman. Scourge or not, she had a wild-fire raging inside of her waiting to be unleashed, fire would be her specialty. She gently tapped into the woman's unacknowledged power, and drew it out.

Fearlina yelped as her hands lit aflame. "You set my hands on fire!"

"Mmm, not exactly, this is your power, not mine," teased Jaina, "And notice how it doesn't burn?"

Fearlina's brief fear faded. "Uh... yeah actually. That's kind of weird."

"I'm keeping it tamed for now, but your going to need to keep calm when I let go, it will only hurt you if you lose control, alright?" said Jaina.

"W-wait a second!" exclaimed Fearlina.

"Just keep calm," said Jaina, letting go and withdrawing her own focus.

The flame jumped a bit, cackling and slightly spreading along the woman's arms before she managed to force a calm on herself. The botanist gulped nervously, but examined her hands and the flames coating them. "Okay, I can sprout fire. Weird magic when you consider my profession."

Jaina grinned a little, recalling a conversation she had with Malfurion Stormrage a long time ago. "Fire and nature go hand in hand. Sometimes a forest fire needs to happen for new life to bloom."

Fearlina blinked a few times. "Huh."

There was a loud clearing of a throat followed by Antonidas's disproving voice, "Jaina. May I ask what you are doing?"

She glanced back, noticing the heavy frown on her master's face. "Showing her how to tap into her power?"

Antonidas raised an eyebrow. "Without approval? As an apprentice yourself?"

Jaina winced a little. "Erm..."

Antonidas sighed. "Jaina... whatever am I going to do with you?"

Jaina bowed her head like the scolded apprentice she looked to be.

The elder mage glanced at Fearlina. "If you would banish your magic and refrain from using it for the time being miss...?"

"Fearlina," she answered, "And uh... how?"

Antonidas blinked once and glanced at Jaina with even more disapproval. "Will it withdrawing into you. Imagine the fire dissipating, and it will."

Fearlina focused for a good thirty seconds or so before the fire faded away. "Huh, that's neat."

Antonidas waved a soldier over. "Now, if you would be so kind as to go with this man here, he will escort you to a room in the palace. There are... questions we need answered."

Fearlina made a face. "She already nagged me about the cult! I don't have anything to do with them!"

"And if that is true, then you will be released," said Antonidas calmly before actually glaring at Jaina, making her wilt a bit, "But questions asked without a truth spell active can be falsely answered."

Fearlina grumbled under her breath before taking her rifle and shoving it at the guard. "Make sure this gets back to me, was my father's. You break it, I break _you_."

The moment she was gone, Antonidas turned a scowl in Jaina's direction. "Child, what were you thinking? You are on thin ice with the Crown, the Silver Hand, and the Kirin Tor. You have much you need to prove, and _this_ is not the way to do so."

Jaina fidgeted; Light, he made her feel like a young apprentice in trouble again. Which, she technically was. She wasn't a hero of Hyjal, one of the most powerful archmages in the world (yet), nor a (former) champion of the Alliance. Here and now, to them, she was a former cultist and an apprentice archmage, with little to no influence in her favor. This... was going to be a trying experience.

"I just... wanted to help," she murmured, "I didn't feel that she was lying, and she could be of great help if taught how to harness her power."

Antonidas sighed. "You will get the chance to prove yourself and help in the trials to come Jaina, have no doubt of that. But until you have properly earned our trust back, let us direct you. Take no chances that could be used against you."

"Yes Master," she said quietly.

"Now come, we have the aftermath of a battle to deal with, a hopefully quick questioning of young Fearlina, and then an offensive to begin," said Antonidas, "I do hope you got some sleep Jaina."

"Not even a wink."

"I thought not."


	9. School's Out

Lordaeran had turned into pure hell almost overnight.

As the army of Lordaeran moved, day by day they came across village after village being attacked and rushed to their aid. They bumped into many fleeing villagers or travelers with tales of rotting dead flaying the living. The leadership met briefly to split the army to go and defend the populace. King Terenas, Uther, Arthas, Antonidas, and Kael'Thas however kept a sizable chunk of the army and continued towards Scholomance, until they came across Andorhal.

In the process of being turned into a bastion of the Undead.

"For the Light! For the King!"

Ghostly attacks rained down from the Scourge's Spirit Towers as the detachment of Lordaeran's Army poured into the ruined town. The Alliance hadn't invented Siege Tanks yet, and the army had few Mortar Teams. So it fell on the Archmages to really hammer into the Undead buildings. Jaina took that in stride, it was easier to unleash her power on them without risking accidentally hitting her allies. She let that absorb her focus for a time as the army fought the Undead, destroying one building after the other. It took her some time to realize that Antonidas wasn't helping, instead he was watching her cast, worry and concern on his face.

She didn't know why he was upset, so she merely teased, "Going to let me do all the work Master?"

Antonidas huffed a little. "I dare say you would if I didn't step in."

She grinned in response, refocusing her efforts on the minor Necropolis floating a bit above Andorhal. She rained fire and ice down on it, over and over again, Antonidas joining in her efforts, and even the Elven Prince launched a strike of flame, sending the spear of fire plunging into it's depths, until it crashed to the ground, crushing many Undead and other buildings underneath it. There was a brief pause in the fight as the wave of dust and debris washed over the battlefield, before a large cheer sounded and the forces of Lordaeran fought with renewed vigor.

Jaina dusted herself off. "Good riddance."

She made to go forward before Antonidas gripped her shoulder. "Jaina, I believe we need to speak on something that has been steadily rising in concern for me about you since we left the Capital."

Jaina turned to face him, a bit puzzled. She had followed his orders pretty much to the letter since her mess-up with Fearlina, what was he worried about? "Did I do something wrong?"

He merely shook his head and motioned her away as the army began to take over Andorhal in the aftermath of the Scourge's defeat. They walked a ways away, still within the town's limits, but enough that they wouldn't be overhead...

Then, Jaina watched, a bit stunned, as Antonidas knelt down in front of her, the seriousness of his voice and body language unsettling and alarming her.

"Jaina," began Antonidas slowly, carefully, "Do you understand exactly what you are doing when you cast your spellcraft?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Yes?"

"Explain the process then," said Antonidas, voice controlled.

She... really had no idea what he was so upset about. "I craft the spells intent in my mind, reach inward for my power, my reserves of mana, and cast the spell."

Antonidas's eyes searched hers for a moment, and something crumpled in them. "You have no idea, do you? Is this something the Cult taught you without warning? Because I know I did not, I _never_ would have instructed you to continually do this to yourself."

"Do what master?" she asked, baffled.

"Cast a spell, any _small_ spell," he said, stressing small in a concerning way, "And watch how you draw your energy."

She gave him a perplexed look, aimed a hand at the ground, and shot a small spike of ice into it, feeling her energy draw out of her body. "Okay?"

He closed his eyes, pained. "You don't see what you are doing, do you child?"

She remained silent, growing slightly frustrated about him beating around whatever bush he didn't want to acknowledge.

"Are you even aware of how many spells you've cast on the way here?" he demanded, "Even in this last battle, you've burned through enough spells to have left a fully trained archmage winded and you hardly appear spent."

Certainly not for an archmage from _her_ time. This was nothing, in fact...

She made her eyebrows furrow. "What? This is hardly anything, in fact, I think my mana reserves are kind of _low_ for what they should be, what they _need_ to be. I've been building them up steadily since Hearthglen by..."

"By what Jaina?" he said, "Casting recklessly, slinging one spell into the next with hardly a rest, with hardly a need to?"

"We're fighting the Scourge!" she exclaimed, "They need to be stopped, I don't understand what the problem is."

"That you don't troubles me," said Antonidas in his teaching tone, "I hadn't thought to cover this yet, I never thought I'd need to until it was time to name you a trained Archmage. Arthas's report of the Battle for Hearthglen hadn't troubled me because it was a life or death struggle, I expected you to subconsciously draw on your power like that and casting with everything you had. Not for you to be doing it every single battle."

"Doing what?" she asked, her tone bleeding frustration.

"Jaina, you are not _just_ tapping into your mana, you are tapping into your lifeforce," said Antonidas with a dangerous kind of forced calm, "With every. Single. Spell. that I have seen you cast."

She blinked at him.

"You are supplementing the costs of your magic with tiny specks of your lifeforce in order to drag out your reserve of mana and spare it depletion," said Antonidas, "I don't know _how_ the Cult could possibly imbed such an dangerous habit, why even they would think to need to... no, what am I saying? The Cult probably wouldn't care since they would simply reanimate you if you died. Jaina..."

There was an odd air of helplessness about him, "You haven't altered your casting between a single group of Undead or an enemy base like this, you always give much more than you should when there is no need! Without reservation of running yourself dry! I haven't seen anyone do anything like this since the height of the Second War when we were in one pitched life or death battle after another. There was never a need to, especially not consistently for minor skirmishes! "

But there was for her.

And she honestly hadn't even really realized she had been doing it. The Scourge the first time around, and the Legion, the Battle for Mount Hyjal... there had been so little time to rest. She put everything into her actions, had seen herself grow vastly stronger because of it, becoming one of the most powerful sorceresses to ever live... and she had been augmenting her power with her life the entire time? Like a Warlock? She had watched enough of them and their castings to have an understanding of their spellcraft, but no, not like a warlock, they did that for certain spells, not for everything.

She could recall how utterly exhausted she had been after Hyjal, slept for days Stormrage had told her. Felt so withered and weak for awhile afterwards. There had been a few times after during particularly intense situations that she had felt somewhat drained in that way, but she had gotten _used to it_. It hardly affected her anymore, even now in her younger body, she didn't feel particularly awful, even after Hearthglen. She had _adapted_ , so what...

"What... exactly is the problem?" she asked cautiously.

"Aside from the fact that you are bleeding small bits of your life into your spells?" asked Antonidas, eyebrow raised, "Do you have any idea of the potential long term damage you will do to yourself?"

"People heal and recover spent energy," she said uncertainly.

She had been practicing her craft like that ever since the Legion's arrival, she hadn't noticed anything 'long term'.

"Based off studies of magical addiction, it is believed to hold are multiple differing dangers. The first is simple. If you keep this up, I wouldn't be surprised to suffer some kind of organ failure by the time you reach forty," warned Antonidas, "Such a continual strain could cause weakening within your body that could lead to sudden collapse in a moment of extreme stress."

_Oh._

Well that...

She hadn't quite reached that age, but she could recall feeling physically healthy, and she had been in _MANY_ stressful and complete-mana-reserve-burning situations throughout her life both during and after the Third War.

"Second is the danger to your soul," he warned, "Mixing arcane magic with your lifeforce is dangerous, addictive, potentially corruptive in a manner the demons you spoke of would find... enticing."

Wait, what? She knew that Warlocks could fall into madness and the Legion's influence, but was that the way? They overused their life? Got addicted to the arcane like that by splicing magic and life?

"But I...," she began. She hadn't experienced anything like that... she knew she wasn't addicted.

He held up a hand. "Third, while people do recover as you say, this continues use eats into that recover. Your current years would leave you more tired than average, perhaps never feeling full of energy. Your body would deteriorate quicker. Your later years would not be as... pleasant as mine have been."

"But... I never noticed anything," she said, "I'm not addicted to my magic, and aside from this one time I really dropped after... well... a nasty bit of fighting, I never felt particularly drained. Maybe one or two pretty intense fights, but..."

Antonidas's eyebrows furrowed in thought, but he turned, they both did, when the elven prince approach.

"Tapping into her lifeforce is not all she is doing Antonidas," said Kael'Thalas firmly, eyes narrowing as he interrupted the 'lesson', "The second may explain the lack of damage of the first. I want an answer on how the cult could possibly understand how to do this. Kel'Thuzad wouldn't know this, and I doubt that traitor Dar'Khan would know or know how to teach it either."

The Elven Prince honed his eyes on the young archmage. "Jaina Proudmoore. How are you tapping into Leylines? Especially at this distance from the nearest one? You are pulling mana out of the ground at your feet _effortlessly_. Even I can't do that in the way you can, with my considerable experience and age. I'd have to be physically at a Leyline and focusing intently to reach anything near what you are doing now."

Jaina felt like her stomach plummeting uncontrollably, not quite sure she had heard right. "I'm doing _what now_?"

"You are pulling mana right out of the ground, from nature, and feeding it into your spellwork almost _subconsciously,"_ said the elf.

But that's... she wasn't intentionally using Leylines. She was doing what Malfurion showed...

_Oh._

She had the feeling she was either the butt of a joke, a jab at the high elves ( _or arcane weidling mages in general_ ), or Stormrage had seen what she had been unconsciously doing by drawing on her lifeforce and showed her a way to counteract it. Pulling energy from the land was something druids did effortlessly. She wasn't a druid, not even close, they could do whatever the High Elf felt ten times better, but once Malfurion had showed her, it wasn't exactly hard to tap into the mana below her feet, even easier when she had skin touching the ground. She wasn't calling on nature per say like a druid would through plants or anything like that, she was simply pulling mana through the ground, tugging it in and trusting the Leylines running below the planet to refill what she took. She hadn't realized she had started doing it _subconsciously_ however.

She hadn't realized with either her lifeforce, or Leylines, or who knows what else.

"You, Proudmoore, are an enigma to me," said Kael'Thalas warily, "There are so many little things I have noticed in how you hold yourself, how you weave your spellwork, that make absolutely no sense. I almost think you've been instructed by a dragon at one point as well, but even that is difficult to tell."

She raised an eyebrow at him, a bit curious what had given him that idea, and not actually answering because, frankly, she had gotten a few lesson from Kalecgos among other dragons and dragonflights. To be honest, she had learned and studied so many different forms of magic and how different factions used it, incorporating and weaving things here and there into her form _apparently_ whether she knew it or not. It was so easy to go and learn to, being able to teleport half way across the world than be back home by nightfall let her go to anyone willing to teach. And that didn't even begin to touch on Aegwynn, the former Guardian of Trisfal had not-so-subtly talked and rebuked many lessons into Jaina's head as her supposed chamberlain. Oh how she missed that woman... who was still alive at this point now that Jaina thought about it.

Oh she was going to have _so much fun_ with that one when she eventually crossed paths with her again. In fact, if she could recruit Aegwynn before Hyjal, that entire battle could go so vastly different if it came down to it.

The High Elf shook his head, "You consistently push so much mana and arcane power through your body over the last few days that there should be severe consequences for your foolishness, yet... I see and feel none of them aside from temporary exhaustion that you come back stronger despite of. You are rapidly improving over the last few days in a way that should take months, if not years."

Jaina slowly worked out an answer, knowing she had to be somewhat truthful in order to get them off her back, "Unrestricted outside of Dalaran and the Kirin Tor, there are many willing to teach, if one is willing to learn. I am not, and was never loyal to the Cult of the Damned. Their actions may have caused a... loosening in how and what and who I was willing to study and learn from, but their dark magic was hardly all I learned about. Being able to teleport anywhere and be back by dinner is... well... it allows me to go to anyone willing to teach."

Antonidas grew exasperated. "Your desire to learn may be your undoing one day Jaina. I don't know how I missed any of these continual excursions, let alone your time with the Cult. How many nights did you sneak out Jaina? How did you never seem so tired the next morning?"

She gave him a perplexed look, not that she had ever really snuck out, but as for sustaining energy, did he really not know how? "Well, I'll show you."

She reached for her magic, tapped into it, and fed it through her body, feeling instantly physically rejuvenated, perking up a bit. "That easy."

There was a look of horror on both her teacher and the Elven Prince's face.

Antonidas sputtered. "Jaina! Do you have any idea how dangerous what you just did is?"

"You've done that for months? Years?" asked Kael'Thalas, incredulous, "How are you not suffering arcane addiction?"

Jaina just gave them a puzzled look. Surely they knew, they understood it was in how you channeled your magic, that gorging like a glutton or continually feeding on your magic every second of a day was the real danger (not brief intense bursts or once a day pick-me-ups), that races other than the High Elves were more resistant to addiction than they were considering they hadn't been intertwined with the Sunwell for so long, not just...

Was the Kirin Tor of old really so dead-stuck in their understandings and old ways? Had she really reminisced about a older, better times, without thinking it through? Hells, there were so many studies based off the Blood Elves's addiction to magic that simply didn't exist yet... were she and they even talking about the same _kind_ of magical addiction? There was such a humongous divide, before and after the Third War, for the world's understanding of magic...

She realized suddenly that there was a gap between them and her. Perhaps even in ways she herself didn't understand yet. She had studied at the foot of so many peoples and ways and teachings. Magic, and their understanding of it, had been forced to evolve to meet the constant threats the future faced. About the only thing under Azeroth's skies she hadn't actually learned magic from was the Scourge, the Old Gods, and the Legion. She had refused to learn those magics aside from how best to battle them. Everything else had been fair game for her to try and learn, even if it didn't exactly convert over to arcane wielding that well. Using the Leylines for example any magic wielder could learn to do, funneling that power from nature was a Druid's thing, but adapting that to pull mana out of the ground rather than just asking of nature wasn't that hard... was it?

"I don't...," she began and trailed off, uncertain as how to proceed, her face scrunching a bit with anxiety.

"Is everything okay over here?" came the voice of the Prince.

Jaina's eyes swerved to see Arthas approaching with concern on his face.

"We are fine, Prince Arthas," said Antonidas, "Merely discussing spellcraft with my young Apprentice."

Arthas hummed in response. "Well, it will have to wait. We will be moving in on Scholomance soon and it would be best to have Jaina lend her thoughts on how best to proceed."

Jaina gave him a look of pure relief and nodded. "I'll explain what I can. Things may have changed since I was last here though."

She took her leave of the two elder spellcasters and walked beside Arthas. "Thank you."

"You looked a bit stressed," he said, "I haven't seen you do anything wrong to deserve it. They're being hard on you for no reason."

"Not... exactly," she mumbled, earning a curious look from him, "They're not being hard, they're just worried. I've... apparently picked up a few habits with my spellcasting I wasn't aware of."

"Dangerous habits?" he asked with concern.

She shrugged. "They think so, but I've not felt anything wrong. If anything, it's helped far more than it's hurt. I've been growing stronger."

Arthas nodded slowly, a hint of the concern the two magi had showing on his face. "I've noticed it. Just... don't push yourself to hard Jaina, okay? Rather than keep practicing during downtime, you can relax a little, come talk to me or the others instead. Alright?"

She frowned a little. "Arthas, if we don't win against the Scourge, none of this matters."

"I just don't want to see you lose yourself in this," said Arthas, "You're already helping us, you don't need to go any further out of your way to prove yourself."

She just shook her head at the unknowing hypocrisy he gave her, not knowing how he himself had done so in another timeline. She picked up the pace, walking ahead of him, and ignoring his sigh. When they gathered the leadership, Jaina recounted again what she knew of Scholomance and it's inhabitants. Many cultists would be in the buildings, necromancers and dark spellcasters. She spoke of some of it's more powerful inhabitants, of the Barovs and the 'plans' for them, citing she didn't know if Alexi Barov had been turned into a Death Knight or not yet. The same for Ras Frostwhisper. When they had questioned her enough, they marched.

Yet somehow, for what knowledge she did have on it's inhabitants, a giant abomination surging out of Scholomance when the army had been cited wasn't one of them. "Putridius SMASH!"

Knights and footmen alike were sent flying through the air and screaming as the abomination charged into the ranks of Lordaeran. Dark spellcasters began to line balconies and walls and roofs of various buildings and the keep itself. Ghouls and zombies poured out of the depths of the keep like a tide, smashing into the Lordaeran Offensive. She had known Scholomance would be rough, but they had hardly breached into Caer Darrow yet and the slaughter had began. Her thoughts briefly turned to Antonidas and Kael's warnings before she dismissed them.

She knew her own power, even if she didn't fully understand it. She would not and could not hold herself back.

She stepped to the side of Antonidas as he cast into the legions of undead, focusing her attention on the cultists high above. She let loose a blast of chain lightning, watching it bounce between cultists in shrieks of agony and bursts of energy. She silently thanked Thrall for his lessons on that spell before casting another. She focused her attention on destroying the spellcasters while the others worked on the wall of flesh smashing into their troops.

"Back you friend!" roared Uther, "In the name of the Light!"

She briefly averted her attention to the sight of Uther battling the Abomination Putridius, his holy warhammer smashing into the abomination in explosions of light that sent it reeling. Arthas rushed to join him, and together they beat the abomination senseless. She refocused in time to see a shadowbolt coming for her from above, she channeled her power into a barrier and blocked it before returning the favor towards it's source, frying a cultist alive. Steadily, the Offensive pushed into Caer Darrow.

Jaina paused in the middle of the advance and tugged on Antonidas's sleeve. "I feel a dark power high in the keep as well as down below. There are two powerful presences here."

Antonidas nodded slowly. "I will suggest to the king that we will split up, half the assault force will go above, the rest will go below."

The leadership met briefly as the Scourge pulled back to fortify the keep and Scholomance. Arthas would lead a detachment into the keep with Kael and Jaina and his captains at his back along with his men. Uther, Antonidas, and King Teranas would clear out Scholomance. Jaina was a bit surprised they didn't want her to lead them into Scholomance herself, but judging from the deep concern Antonidas had etched into his face, he was feeling a bit protective. Scholomance would be far worse than the keep, and judging what she felt, had the most of the area's more powerful spellcaster's there, but the presence in the keep was no pushover either from what she could feel. It was... _really_ powerful. Not as powerful as Kel'Thuzzad had been as a lich the one time she had been close enough to sense him at Dalaran, but decently powerful. Much stronger than Ordin Frostbane to be sure.

She knew was forgetting something about Scholomance, she just couldn't remember what.

They split off, and Jaina opened the door to the keep with a fireball shaped knock, blowing down the door, Arthas grinning at her as she did, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've lost a bit of your manners. Guess I'm rubbing off on you."

Jaina flashed him a smile. "What can I say? People should follow their prince's lead."

"Save the flirting for later," said Kael'Thas mildly, marching ahead of them, "We have a job to do here."

Room by room, hallway by hallway, they cleared the keep of the damned, only briefly pausing when they came to a dungeon full of restrained and terrified civilians. A number of soldiers were stationed to keep the dungeon safe, but not to free them until there had been a chance to screen them. One could never be sure the cultists wouldn't have slipped a plant into the prison. Higher and higher they climbed, until they reached the top of the keep, a flat area that hung high above the ground.

Floating in the middle of the roof was a lich, emanating raw power. Jaina couldn't exactly tell which one it was, most liches looked alike. Was this Ras Frostwhisper perhaps? It floated near an alter, a circle of blood and magic below it's feet. In front of him, on the alter, was a man in terrifyingly familiar armor, a runeblade next to him leaning on the alter. The Lich was funneling power into him rapidly, with a hint of desperation to it.

"What is it doing?" hissed Kael'Thas, flinching at the dark magic permeating the area.

"He's... creating a death knight," she whispered in surprise, and a bit of horror.

She didn't know if anyone present was ready to fight a Death Knight, nor a lich of the caliber they were about to fight.

"I, Araj, command thee to rise!" roared the Lich, green energy fluctuating around the man on the alter, "Arise, Alexei Barov, Death Knight of the Scourge!"

Oh, **_shit_**.

She had completely forgotten about Araj the Summoner, the previous headmaster of Scholomance before Gandling had taken over. An explosion of green energy burst around them, howls and screams filling the air, before it funneled back into the man on the alter. Slowly, the man pushed himself off the alter, his brown hair bleaching white as it did, his eyes deadening, dark power rippling from him in an unholy aura.

Arthas clenched his warhammer tightly, light rippling out of it in defiance of the unholy energy. "Everyone but Jaina and Prince Sunstrider are to leave the roof, _now_."

"But M'lord!" exclaimed Marwyn.

"Now Captain!" ordered Arthas, "None of you will stand a chance here, you will just give the damned more corpses to throw at us. Pull back."

"Yes M'lord," said the captain wearily, turning and retreating back inside with the rest of their forces.

Jaina gulped nervously, "That's... Araj the Summoner. Arthas, Kael, _be careful_. He is probably the most powerful Lich, if not Scourge, in Lordaeran right now if we don't count the dreadlords. Even Kel'Thuzad wouldn't be stronger than him unless he's turned into a Lich himself."

They wouldn't find any Scourge potentially stronger than him unless they breached Naxxramas itself.

Arthas and Kael nodded slowly, the human prince eyed the Death knight. "I'll take Barov, can you two handle the Lich?"

"I suppose, Prince Arthas, that there is only one way to find out," said Kael'Thas evenly, "The time to talk and plan has passed, they come."

The trio was blown apart by a nova of frost, sending them flying. Their plan on who would confront who certainly didn't survive initial contact as Alexei aimed a hand at Jaina and made a pulling motion. Jaina barely had a moment to recognize the Death Grip ability before she was yanked towards the Death Knight, grabbed by dark power. She didn't even get to yelp as his hand reached her throat and lifted her up, pulling his blade back to skewer her. Arthas slammed into the Death Knight at the last possible second, throwing the stab offcourse, and tackled him to the floor. Jaina landed ungracefully and rolled, springing up and away from the melee.

Kael and Araj were trading heavy spells of fire and ice. Flame strikes, frost novas and frost bolts flying across the roof. Jaina joined the magic fray, throwing a bolt of lightning at the Lich from behind. Araj screeched and spun, waving a hand and unleashing a blast of ice. Jaina barely had time to raise her own defenses in the form of an ice barrier, which all but instantly shattered and sent her flying on impact. She hit the ground and rolled, coming to a stop a few feet away, her body aching and chilled. She shook her head at the sound of an explosion and the Lich's cry of pain. Kael had punished it for taking it's attention of the elven mage.

Jaina rose and aimed a hand, calling out an old favorite of any mage. Arcane missiles ripped out of her hands in purple bolts of energy, slamming into the Lich and sending it reeling. Kael wasted no time in releasing a Pyroblast, lobbing a massive ball of fire at the Lich, causing a huge explosion of energy. Jaina waved a hand, trying to clear the residue from the air so she could see.

"You dare strike me you trifling Elf!?" roared the Lich.

So still not dead yet.

A gust of cold blew through the air. "Your flesh shall decay before your very eyes!"

Kael'Thas bucked to his knees, screaming as dark energy rippled around him. Jaina's eyes went wide. "Kael! Move! Get out of the spell!"

The Elf struggled to his feet and in a blink of arcane energy, teleported out of it, briefly collapsing to his knees, his skin blistering and bleeding, dark blemishes that pussed across his face and arms. "What... was that?"

"Death and Decay," she spat, "A Lich's favorite. It will decay anything caught in the area of the spell. If you stand in it for the full duration, you're dead."

"N... noted," said the Elf, pain rippling through his voice, before it pitched in volume, "Move!"

They threw themselves to the side to avoid a barrage of ice bolts. Jaina briefly turned her head, sighting Arthas and Alexei trading blows with sparks of metal clashing over and over again, runeblade against warhammer, before she refocused. The Lich looked a little scorched, but it's power had hardly dipped. Jaina steeled herself, she was going to need to bring out her more powerful spells to fight this thing. She was a master of Arcane, Fire, and Frost, she knew all of the most pinnacle abilities. She wasn't sure she had the reserves for them however...

"Kael," she said, "Keep him focused."

The elf grumbled something under his breath and ran, firing firebolts at the Lich while running in the opposite direction of Jaina, forcing the Lich to counteract him. Jaina raised her hands into the air and began an evocation. Circles of arcane energy surged around her as she gathered mana to her like a funnel. This Lich thought it was a master of the frost? She'd show it real power. She tensed, her legs nearly buckling under her, as she practically emptied her entire reserve plus the evocated energy into the spell.

Regular mages could cast weaker versions of this.

But she always had a habit of taking things to the next level, especially if she really pumped energy into it.

She watched as a Comet Storm rained down from the skies upon the Lich in massive explosions of frost. The Lich howled and staggered under the barrage, gusts of ice and energy blowing through the air like a cold chilling aura, knocking Kael, Arthas, and Alexei back towards the edges of the roof under the barrage. Comet after comet rained down, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, the roof shuddered and cracked as one after another slammed into Araj, driving it to the floor of the roof and smashing it in. Jaina fell to her knees and gasped, struggling for breath as the spell ended. Her vision blurred for a few solid moments.

"It would seem," came the rasping voice of the Lich, "That the fool Ordin's warnings weren't as foolish as I thought. You are quite powerful for such a little girl."

Jaina's head picked up, eyes going wide to see the Lich pick itself up off the floor and begin to levitate again. It was clearly wounded, its energy much dimmer than before, some bones frozen or cracked or splintered, but still very clearly alive. She swore under her breath and longed for the power she once had. Should this Lich have met her before she came back in time, it would be dead already. Several times over.

Araj snapped it's bony fingers, and chains of frost materialized and bound Jaina to the floor. She struggle weakly against them, her energy burned through. "Decay."

Her eyes went wide moments before she began crying out in pain as it cast Death and Decay right on top of her. Pinned to the floor by its spell, there was nothing she could do but writhe and scream as her flesh started to melt and her vision started to darken.

"SCREEE!" came the sound of a bird.

Jaina gasped as she was gripped in talons made of fire and ripped off the floor. She briefly looked up at the sight of a Phoenix carrying her out of the spell and dropping her at the edge of the roof before it returned to join it's master. She watched weakly as Kael and his Phoenix battled the Lich, arcs of fire bathing Araj in a molten shower. The Lich did not relent under the barrage, casting out bolts and novas of frost against it's opponents, even going as far as to rush towards the Phoenix's egg when it ran out of energy and crush it in it's bony grip. Kael looked positively furious at that, if the pyroclasm that ripped from him was any indication.

There was a hoarse cry, and Jaina turned her head to see Alexei Barov sailing backwards, a warhammer sized dent in his armor. Instead of pursuing his foe, Arthas turned and sprinted towards Jaina, kneeling down. "Jaina! Are you okay?"

It had been a long time since she had been hit by Death and Decay, and she definitely couldn't say she missed the sensation. "N...not re...ally..."

He closed his eyes briefly and clasped her hands in his, holy light running down to coat her body and mend her wounds. She let out a soft sigh, feeling the dark energy plaguing her fading away. She opened her eyes and smiled deeply up at him. He smiled back in relief. And then she saw Alexei looming over his shoulder, runeblade raised, and her eyes went wide with fear and terror for her Prince. Not again, she **_couldn't_ ** lose him again. She put on a burst of energy, desperately drawing on herself, rising to her feet and grabbing Arthas, causing him to yelp as she spun them around...

And screamed in agony as a runeblade tore into her back instead of her Prince's, going limp in Arthas's arms...

* * *

Arthas watched in horror as Jaina crumpled to the ground, but he had no time to tend to her as the Death Knight raised his blade for another strike. His vision turned red, and he roared in outrage, surging at the damned man, swinging his warhammer with all his might, entire body shining with the holy power of the light. Light's Vengeance met Runeblade, and his warhammer _shattered_ the Runeblade, sending pieces of it flying and the Death Knight staggering back in surprise. Arthas showed Alexei Barov no mercy, smashing his warhammer into the Death Knight again and again and again until finally, he smashed it into the Scourge's knee, took him to the ground, and with a war cry, brought Light's Vengeance down on Barov's head with a sickening, yet satisfying, 'splotch'.

He huffed and wheezed for a moment, exhaustion biting into his bones. Fighting a Death Knight, an unrelenting and tireless enemy, its unholy aura sapping at his strength and somehow weakening Arthas's ability to heal himself, coils of black and green energy maiming the Paladin or healing the Death Knight, dark fire coating his opponent, had been an experience unlike anything he had come across yet. A true challenge to a servant of the light, yet not one Arthas ever wanted to experience again...

He shook his head and turned, ignoring Kael'Thas and the Lich trading spells on the other half of the roof, and rushed over to Jaina, a strangled cry escaping his lips at the sight of a pool of blood beneath her. He knelt down and cradled her to his chest. "Jaina? Jaina!"

He shook her and got no response. He closed his eyes briefly and steadied himself. Now was not the time for fear or panic, it was a waste of time she desperately did not have. He funneled holy energy down his arms once again. He might not be a priest of the Holy Light, but any and all Paladins could heal. He had done so minutes earlier after she had suffered through that dark spell, and he would do so again. His fingers ran down her back, feeling the open, gaping wound along her skin slowly mend itself closed into nothing more than a long and jagged scab. He wanted to completely heal it, pour himself into fixing any blemish or damage to her body, but he wasn't stupid. As much as he wanted to prevent the scar it would leave, he needed the energy to help the elf against the Lich.

He set Jaina down gently against the railing of the roof and stared at her unconscious form for a moment, helplessly furious. "Dammit Jaina, why did you take that hit for me? I'm a Paladin, I could have taken it an lived, continued to fight. You could have died..."

He shook his head and surged to his feet, turning and charging into the spellcasting fray. He threw a holy light at Kael, giving the man a brief reprieve from his wounds, before shielding himself in a shield of holy power and leaping at the Lich. He smashed his warhammer against it's bones, shattering many of them. The Lich screeched in pain and tried to bat him away first with its arms, then with its icy magic. Protected by the divine, they washed off Arthas's shield like nothing. He rained smash after smash against the Lich as Kael lobbed one fire spell after another into it. With a final swing of his warhammer, the Lich crumpled to the ground, its bones scattering, its power fading.

The two men huffed and puffed for a moment before Arthas shook himself off and began to search the remains. "Do you have any idea what a Phylactery looks like?"

Kael joined him for a moment in his search before scowling, "It's not here."

Arthas swore loudly. "It'll be back then. Dammit."

At least the Death Knight was dead.

"Perhaps its in the building somewhere, or in Scholomance," said Kael'Thas, voice just a tad uncertain.

"I hope so, because that thing...," he began before trailing off.

Kael'Thas merely nodded in agreement before his eyes flickered to Jaina. "Is Lady Proudmoore...?"

"She'll live," said Arthas, exasperated and frustrated, "Stupid, how could she do that? She took a blow meant for me, it nearly... I nearly... I could have lost her..."

The Elf sighed. "Of all people, I'd think you would understand love, Prince Arthas. As much as I would have wished her heart for myself, it is you she cherishes. Do you remember when we last met in Dalaran?"

Arthas stiffened a little. "I do."

"I told you that you should not be ashamed of her," Kael'Thas began.

"I am not!" said Arthas hotly.

Kael'Thas merely shook his head, "And that you should court her openly, and with pride. I was angry at the time, but I truly meant it. It is rare, to find devotion as deep and binding as she feels for you. She does not need your _protection_ for her reputation, that excuse was pitiful then, it is beyond pitiful now with all that we have learned about her struggle with the Cult, and why she left them, for you. All she would ask for is you love her as she does you. You insult her by not doing so, when she would so readily die for the one she loves."

Arthas swallowed hard, saying nothing.

Kael'Thas appeared to take pity on him. "You are young, even for a human, so let my wisdom of hundreds of years warn you: Life is fleeting, and at any moment what you love can be taken away. Don't squander what time you have, especially with the foe we face. The chances of any one of us dying in this fight against both the Scourge and the Legion are high. I will head down into Scholomance to join the others, tend to her and organize your men before you do the same."

With that, Kael'Thas left the roof, leaving a rather stunned and scolded Arthas alone. He slowly turned and made his way over to the unconscious Jaina, kneeling down in front of her, pushing away strands of her blonde hair from her exhausted face. "Jaina..."

He thought of the Winter's Veil, of all the times he forced her to meet in secret with him, a _tryst_ as Kael had once distastefully called their relationship. He thought of their arguments during the initial mission and struggle against the Scourge, and bowed his head. "I'm not worthy of you Jaina."

He sighed softly and leaned forward, a chaste kiss across her lips. "But I will be."

He gently lifted her up and cradled her against his chest and left the roof. He briefly stopped to find her a bed in an empty room of the keep and stationed Falric to guard her before leaving to descend into Scholomance. He hoped Uther and his Father had left him something to battle, because he wasn't nearly done yet this day...

* * *

Jaina awoke to the setting of the sun through a window. Her back ached, a line of pain throbbing down it. She briefly recalled what had happened before falling unconscious and figured she had been relatively healed. A runeblade to the back should have, if not killed her, then left her far more injured than she felt. She still knew better than to move at the moment until someone looked her over ( _or she got impatient enough_ ). She briefly looked around the room, finding herself on a bed in a rather barren room. Probably a servant's quarters. At the door standing guard was one of Arthas's captains, she couldn't tell which.

"Is... Arthas okay?" she rasped out.

The guard turned, approaching to offer a canteen of water. "Good to see you awake Lady Proudmoore, and yes. He's fine, a bit furious with you last I saw, but fine."

Jaina simply smiled in response and took a sip before handing it back, she'd suffer Arthas's rage if only to see him live. "And the fighting? Is it over?"

The captain nodded. "It finished a few hours ago, though our forces are still combing through Scholomance for any stragglers last I heard or interrogating prisoners. The King has gathered a brief council to decide what to do next."

"Gandling?" she asked.

"Archmage Antonidas dealt with him personally," said the guard; she didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning at that.

"Good," she said, turning her head to stare up at the ceiling, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

She closed her eyes and lightly dozed, exhaustion from the earlier battle pulling at her...

...and awoke to a creak in the floor. She turned her head to see Arthas dismissing the captain and walking into the room. Their eyes met for a moment, and where she thought she would see anger, there was only relief. He moved and sat next to the bed on a chair. "How is your back?"

"Aches a little," she murmured.

"Roll over," he said, taking off his gloves and gently laying a hand on her shoulder.

She did with his assistance, laying on her side. She shivered a little to feel Arthas's finger trail down her back, over what she imagined was the wound. "It's going to scar. I wasn't able to heal it fully with the fight against the Lich going on."

"It's fine Arthas," she said softly.

"I'll do what I can to minimize it," he said in equal softness, "No need to leave it in a state where you can pull and rip it open."

She felt the warmth of the light rush into her body, and she nestled against his hand as it slowly trailed down her back. He ran it back up her spine, resting on her shoulderblades as the light faded away. The ache had turned into a small pinch. She stayed still for a few moments as Arthas did nothing else, one hand still on her back, one still on her shoulder. She slowly turned her head and looked up at him. "Arthas?"

He moved his hand, the one on her back pulling her up, the one on her should turning her as he pressed his lips against hers, the hand on her shoulder trailing to cup the back of face as the other did the back of her head. She froze for a moment, shocked and surprised, before she melted into the kiss, raising her own hands to clutch him as she greedily received the kiss. Lips parted, and tongues danced in a way they hadn't since that night before Strathlome so very long ago.

He pulled away slowly. "I love you Jaina, don't you _ever_ do that to me again."

She blushed deeply, struggling with herself and the pure joy to hear those words for a moment before dragging her hands from the back of his head to cup his cheeks. "I love you too Arthas, but if I have to choose between my life and yours, I won't hesitate to choose you. I can't live without you..."

Not again, not a second time. She couldn't survive that twice. Couldn't go through another harsh life full of betrayal and pain and watching herself lose everything again.

He sighed wearily, but surprisingly, did not contest her words. "Our forces are resting here for the night. My father is waiting for news from the others and how their battles have progressed before he makes a decision on our next target. He's voiced a thought of heading to Strathlome, but we will see."

She nodded, her hands slowly peeling from his face as he released his own grip from her. "I'll leave you to your rest M'lady."

Her eyes trailed him as he made for the door. "Arthas..."

He briefly paused. "Yes?"

"D... don't go," she said timidly, face beating red like the young woman her body made her to be, "Stay... with me, tonight."

He hesitated, turning to face her. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel that you have to, or because of what happened..."

She shook her head. "I want you to stay."

His eyes locked on her for a moment, before they briefly trailed her body with a longing and hunger from days long past. There was an odd restraint in him though, and she was more than surprised to see him hesitate, to hold himself back where the young prince she had once known so long ago wouldn't have hesitated to take that private moment between them and pounced. It wasn't revulsion or dislike or anything like that, it wasn't directed towards her, but himself, and it touched her to see that respect from him given to her.

He slowly closed the door and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed, finger trailing from her legs to her hips, felt through the silk of her robes. His touch elected a shiver and a small gasp from her. He leaned forward for another deep kiss before pulling away. "I will stay, but we are resting. We're both exhausted and need our sleep for whatever is to come."

She flushed a little, embarrassed by the want she had for him that had overridden reason. Not that either of them had given such consideration the night before Strathlome in a somewhat similar situation, taking comfort in love between one another in the original timeline. Still, she scooted over and pulled at the blankets of the bed, drawing it over herself but keeping it raised for him to slide into. He dislodged his armor and climbed into bed next to her. They nestled next to one another, her head resting against his chest, the soft heartbeat in his body echoing through her ears. Each beat was a thrum of _alive_ , _alive_ , to her ears.

It was one of the most blissful things she had ever heard...


	10. Rushing Forward

"Arthas lad, wake up!"

Jaina blinked herself away at the sound of Uther's voice and a hefty knock at the door. She looked over at Arthas, still breathing softly in sleep. How she wished to just stay there and watch him, so readily alive, and resting peacefully. She sighed softly and shook him. "Arthas, wake up."

"Another five minutes...," he mumbled.

"Will five minutes do Lord Uther?" called out Jaina cheekily, "It would appear the Prince is to lazy to get out of bed."

There was a pause, a soft sigh from the elder Paladin, before he answered, "No, it will no, our runners have reported back."

"I'm up, I'm up, the two of you won't let a poor man sleep," groaned Arthas, sitting up, "Enter Uther, we're clothed."

Uther walked into the room, eyeing the two of them with faint disapproval briefly before speaking, "Your father requests your presence immediately."

Arthas scooted out of bed and knelt by his armor, and Jaina moved to join him. Not that he needed help putting it on, but... she wanted to, and did so, placing the pauldrons on his shoulder and binding them down as he placed his feet in his boots. When they finished, Arthas brought one of her hands to his lips, leaving a soft kiss that made her blush before rising to his feet and turning to Uther. The men left, and Jaina took a brief moment to magic her hair into a presentable state and mat down the ruffles in her clothes, grabbing her staff, and moving after them.

There was a large gathering in the courtyard of Caer Darrow, with the King, Uther, Arthas, and Kael present. Jaina was about to ask where Antonidas was before the archmage in question appeared with Jaina's parents in tow. There was a line of various men and women waiting to give reports, and with a motion of the King's hands, one by one they did. The news was... a mixture of good and bad...

"Northdale is the last town still standing in Strathlome's immediate vicinity, without immediate aid, both it and the townsfolk will be overrun within the new few days, if not sooner."

"Corrins Crossing fairs little better than Northdale, they have begun barricading the town, but are unsure if they should fight or flee. Their position will be hard to maintain, but if the Scourge takes the town, they will be able to cut off Northdale and Tyr's Hand from aid, not to mention block the path from Quel'Thalas should the elves see fit to aid us."

"Tyr's Hand however stands firm in the midst of this darkness, well fortified, and could withstand isolation and siege should our focus be needed elsewhere."

"Darrowshire has driven off a number of Scourge attacks already and have begun to bunker down. The town is easily isolated and cut off, but the townsfolk refuse to leave."

"Lord Taelen Fordring has marshaled the forces of Mardenhold Keep and has retaken Hearthglen, bolstering it as an outpost on the path to Strathlome. The area is badly infested and overrun with the Undead. He fears he will not be able to hold the land without further aid."

"Most of the farmland north of Caer Darrow has been overrun with Scourge, scouts are reporting that the Undead are... for better lack of terms, trying to set up large cauldrons of all things..."

At that, Jaina interrupted, "Those are Plague Cauldrons, they are incredibly dangerous."

King Teranas turned to her. "Explain."

"Plague Cauldrons are infused with necromantic magic and plague," she began slowly, "Once they are ready, each cauldron will boil and spew the Plague of Undeath into the air, tainting the area around them and spreading, like the blighted ground from the undead buildings, but more virulent. Scourge fighting near them would be empowered, any living person that goes near them..."

She shook her head. "Will constantly be under assault by the plague, keeping near them for to long will kill and reanimate anyone not deeply protected by magic, the holy light, or a will of iron beyond measure."

"Then they need to be destroyed," said Uther firmly, "As a priority, lest Lordaeran be destroyed under our feet while we fight."

King Teranas nodded and then motioned to the runners to continue...

"Trisfal Glades are under siege, dead are roaming in mass, but unorganized numbers. Brill and the Capital City are well reinforced, and the Trisfal Monastery holds a large number of the priesthood and order of the Silver Hand in Lordaeran. However, the farmsteads have constantly been under attack, and the people fear to touch any food potentially infected. We've lost contact with the Deathknell cemetery, and fear the worst; the Scourge could raise a potential army out of there alone. Finally, the Agamand Mills have reported an undead infestation and request aid. If we lose the mills, we may lose one of the last grain processing centers in Lordaeran with Andorhal's destruction."

The King absorbed the information steadily before turning to the Proudmoore's. "What of Strathlome?"

Daelin stepped forward. "We have cut it off by sea and await your judgement on the city. From what we can see, the Scourge have completely taken control, and have begun fortifying it. If we don't commence bombardment as soon as possible, it will become the strongest Scourge bastion in the land. If we do however, the chances are by the end of all of this, Strathlome will be completely ruined."

The King rubbed his eyes tiredly, mulling it over briefly. "Do it.

"What of Kel'Thuzad?" questioned Jaina, "Do we know if he has been spotted anywhere?"

"Very few will have any clue who he is, Jaina," pointed out Antonidas, "To most, one necromancer will look like another."

Jaina bit her lip. "I understand, but... Kel'Thuzad is the highest ranking member of the Scourge in Lordaeran. Not knowing where he is, well, _dangerous_."

Antonidas nodded. "Agreed, but unfortunately, there is little we can do until he reveals himself, and we cannot wait for him to do so."

King Teranas cleared his throat. "First and foremost. Uther, I want you to personally lead the assault on these 'Plague Cauldrons'. The lands of Lordaeran already suffer enough under the threat of the Undead, if we win the war only to find our lands inhabitable, it will be pointless. Afterwards, I wish you to reinforce Corrin's Crossing."

"It will be done my king."

"Next, my son, you and Lady Proudmoore will go to Northdale and evacuate it, teleport in and out, take no chances," ordered the King.

"Where shall we take the townsfolk?" asked Jaina.

"Send them to Tyr's Hand, afterwards you are to convince Darrowshire to flee to safer grounds, then, join Uther in Corrin's Crossing," instructed the King.

"As you will, Father," said Arthas.

"Next, Antonidas, I need you to return to Dalaran and marshal the Kirin Tor, I fear Lordaeran will not survive without them," said King Terenas.

Antonidas pulled on his beard briefly. "It will take time to ready ourselves, but where would you like the magi?"

"I would prefer magi placed in every town we have to bolster our defenses," said the King, "I will be reintegrating the bulk of the army and steadily moving for Strathlome, clearing out any pockets of Undead we come across. The majority and most powerful of your magi I want to join the main army making for Stratholme."

Antonidas tilted his head in acknowledgement.

The King turned to Kael'Thalas, "Prince Sunstrider, you've born witness to the Scourge, do you believe your words can sway your father?"

The elven prince nodded. "I do."

"Then the People of Lordaeran ask Quel'Thalas its aid," said the King.

"I will go to my father at once," said Kael'Thas, "I'm also curious to see what was done with the traitor magister."

"A tale to be told over a victory feast when it is all said and done," commented Terenas.

That got a brief smile out of the elf. "Indeed."

The King took a moment to make eye contact with all of them. "You all have your orders, if there are no questions...?"

"What about Taelen Fordring?" questioned Jaina, "Mardenhold Keep..."

The King frowned briefly. "The main army will take time to reach the area, but we will draw attention. Fordring will have to hold on his own until then, we can only be in so many places at once and only have so many commanding officers to send out, young Proudmoore."

Jaina bit her lips again, thinking. There was someone specifically that might help the boy, someone Jaina wasn't willing to let sit on his ass again the majority of the third war for a second time. "It's... not my place to meddle in the affairs of the Silver Hand, nor the politics of Lordaeran, but... what of the Elder Fordring? A former paladin of his strength..."

Uther stiffened, Arthas and the King tensing as well; the Lightbringer narrowed his eyes at Jaina. "Tirion was _exiled_ , Jaina."

"I know," she said softly, "But... does that matter in the face of the possible destruction of Lordaeran, of the entire Eastern Kingdoms? Against the Scourge? We need all the help we can get."

Uther looked away, his jaw strong set. "We are not that desperate, not yet."

"If we get to the point of desperation, if might be to late and...," began Jaina.

"Jaina, _enough_ ," said Antonidas firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You are right in that it is _not_ your place."

She went silent, but kept her eyes on the Lightbringer. The paladin mulled it over for a time before scoffing, "I know where he lives in exile. If the king wills it, I will see if he can be _bothered_ to aid Lordaeran. He will not be offered to rejoin the Silver Hand however."

So much pride and bitterness... so pointless in the face of an apocalypse, but they didn't understand. Hadn't experience it truly. They just took this as a large threat, a sequel to the second war, not truly the potential end of the world. Especially after they had destroyed Scholomance.

King Terenas scowled. "So be it, inquire on Fordring, he will not be reappointed his lands nor any of his positions, but we will allow his exile to end should he serve Lordaeran well in this crisis."

That kind of attitude wasn't going to drag Tirion back was all she could say on the matter, but she didn't do so aloud. Taelen's safety might be enough, but... she didn't know, she really didn't. They all separated a minute later, Jaina briefly hugging her parents goodbye, before she walked to Arthas. He had a look of faint disapproval on his face, probably over Fordring. She frowned at that before turning and aiming her staff, concentrating on direction. She had never teleported to Northdale before, in the last life, so it wasn't a place she was familiar with. Still, she wasn't inexperienced to teleporting to unknown locations, she merely pictured the general area in her mind and opened a portal.

Arthas took point, going through first, Jaina after...

Only for her to yelp as Arthas shoved her out of the way before she could even take in the area, "MOVE!"

She staggered as a large crunch and the sound of a bones breaking echoed behind her. She turned to see an onslaught of Ghouls coming for them. She cursed and ran forward, sighting Northdale a bit away, tired footmen at the ready already rushing to aid them. Jaina and Arthas moved behind the entrance, briefly joining to fend off the lesser undead.

"Jaina, start teleporting the townsfolk, and be a bit more careful where they come out this time," ordered Arthas, "The messenger was right, the town wont last the day."

Jaina blushed a little and rushed to the center of the town, calling out, "People of Northdale! By order of his majesty King Terenas Menethil, the town is to be evacuated to Corrin's Crossing. Gather what affects you have, quickly, I will be forming a portal to take you there, as it is not safe to walk."

Jaina personally checked and corrected the accuracy of the teleport this time, placing the rushing civilians right into the center of Corrin's Crossing. "Arthas! Gather the guards, the townfolk are just about all through!"

Arthas and footmen came hurtling towards her from the town's entrance, undead fast on their heels. They slipped through, Jaina the last, and she closed the portal behind her. Arthas took a brief look around, eyes searching. "Uther will probably still be some time coming."

Jaina nodded, thinking a bit. "I believe there were plans for four cauldrons, so, he has to purge four of the fields. It will take time."

"Well, lets see if we can't get Darrowshire done before he gets here," commented Arthas before turning to briefly address one of the footmen, "Have whoever the mayor of the town see to sorting out the people of Northdale, and incorporate Northdale's guard to your own."

"Yes M'lord!"

With that, Arthas and Jaina strode from the west edge of town, making for Darrowshire. Arthas spoke the moment they were out of earshot of Corrin's Crossing. "Jaina, what were you thinking with Tirion? My father and the others already have slim trust in you for you to be pushing on something like that!"

Jaina scowled at him. "I'm thinking of the safety and survival of Lordaeron! Tirion was a powerful paladin, one of the first five, right? We could use his help."

Arthas glowered at her.

She rebuffed. "Not to mention, if he's all alone in exile, that's a perfect target for the Scourge to isolate and kill to get a powerful Death Knight. Could you imagine a Death Knight with his potential power? Fighting the Scourge isn't just about destroying them, but denying them resources too."

Hadn't happened in the original timeline, but Arthas didn't need to know that, and it helped her argument.

Arthas grumbled a little. "When did you start thinking tactically?"

"When I was forced to," she muttered, picking up her pace and taking the lead.

Darrowshire, when they arrived, wasn't under attack. They were however bunkering down. Placing barricades, piling the undead corpses from previous battles into burn-piles, and most importantly, not evacuating. That stubbornness would get them killed. Jaina didn't have the details of how this particular village fell, something involving a ghoul lord and a death knight if she can even recall right, but it will fall if the villagers stay. Though... if Corrin's Crossing holds, perhaps they might have a chance. It would be hard to tell.

"Who is in command here?" called out Arthas as the pair of them walked into the village.

A man in captains armor approached, red hair faintly visible through bangs peaking through the helmet's visor, nodding curtly to the prince. "I am m'lord, my name is Joseph Redpath, captain of the Darrowshire Militia."

"Well met Captain Redpath," answered Arthas in turn, eyes washing over the village, "What is your status here?"

"We've pushed back several minor attacks from these abominable heathens," explained the Captain before proudly saying, "Not a single one of my men or the townsfolk have fallen since we marshaled the men and manned the defenses."

Impressive, but that wasn't going to last long, Jaina knew it, and Arthas had to know it to, though... Arthas was giving Redpath a contemplative look, glancing over the barricades being put up, the patrols skirting the village and keeping watch, the drills taking place, the civilians in a scramble to help wherever possible. "You do good work here Captain."

Captain Redpath puffed up a bit at the Prince's praise. "Thank you m'lord. Darrowshire is well set, the crown need not worry and can focus its efforts where they are truly needed."

"Unfortunately, Captain Redpath, it's not that simple," said Prince Arthas, "The Undead Scourge is more vast and dangerous than you may think. Your defenses are impressive, but against the bulk and might of their true strength, Darrowshire would fall to them and feed their growing army."

"M'lord, I can assure you...," began Redpath.

"There is no assurance," snapped back Arthas, making both Jaina and Redpath flinch a little, "I barely survived a host of undead swarming over Hearthglen with greater defenses than you have here. They destroyed out forces, and if not for us being teleported out, I'd be an undead slave now. Now is not the time to be choking on pride. Fighting the Scourge is not just about destroying them, but denying them resources..."

Jaina shot him a quick, surprised and pleased look. Taking the words right from her mouth... and 'not the time to be choking on pride'? Was that hypocrisy from him, or was he learning? She dearly hoped it was the latter.

"...and a moderately defended village is not something I will risk giving them," said Arthas firmly, "Your talents could be put to use in Lordaeran's army, and the townsfolk evacuated to the safety of Tyr's Hand."

Captain Redpath clenched his fists tightly and gritted out. "This is our home, Prince Arthas..."

"Daddy?"

Jaina turned her head to see a little redheaded girl, a little patchwork wooden doll clutched to her hand, timidly approach and stand by her father, staring up curiously at the prince. The father glanced down at his daughter. "Pamela, I told you to stay with Marlene."

"But I wanna see the pawadin and the pwetty lady," said the little girl shyly.

Jaina smiled little bit... at least until the name Pamela rang a bell. Oh light, she remembered now. Remembered the story from a dead-drunk adventurer, lamenting their exploration of Darrowshire, finding a dead girl's soul wandering, always searching for her father... Jaina had shared in the miserable drinking after that tale.

"Family is more important than a patch of land, Captain Redpath," said Jaina softly, "Darrowshire can be rebuilt if the undead even bother with an empty village, but lives taken and souls damned by their unholy magic are another matter."

She didn't even hesitate to go for the low blow. "The Scourge have no mercy, whether its man, woman...," she glanced at Pamela, "Or child."

The Captain tensed a bit, looking down at his daughter, and then around the village slowly, many of his men and the townsfolk looking his way as he weighed the decision...

Which apparently Arthas wasn't even going to give him. "If I have to make it a royal decree Captain Redpath, I will. Pack up the village, we will escort your families to Tyr's Hand, then you and the militia are to join us at Corrin's Crossing."

"As you wish, M'lord," said Captain Redpath stiffly, grasping his daughter's hand and leading her towards a house.

"I think I could have worked him over Arthas," whispered Jaina.

"We don't have time for that Jaina," he answered, exasperated, "We are needed elsewhere."

She sighed a little, but moved to stand near the entryway of the village, keeping an eye out for Scourge. Arthas moved between men and patrols, inquiring not-so-subtly about Captain Redpath's command and personality. Arthas always did have a sharp eye; Joseph would most likely make for a good captain in the army. It was everything short of actual conscription, but Arthas would order that if need be. There was to much at stake not to...

An hour later, families were steadily moving in a caravan like trail out of the village, the Militia escorting them in protective pockets.

"Arthas!"

Both he and Jaina turned their heads to see Uther, a band of knights... and Tirion Fordring, approaching behind them. Jaina had a massive wave of uneasy deja-vu to see the old Paladin once again. Especially after their last encounter. The hermit, and boy was it strange to see him dressed like one, didn't even pay any attention to Jaina, eyes briefly assessing the Prince, and then moving to join the guards escorting the caravan. He was clearly tense and unhappy, but he moved with purpose.

"I see you managed to get Darrowshire to evacuate," said Uther, moving to walk beside Arthas.

"And I see you managed to dig up an old fossil," said Arthas in dismissive tone.

Uther just shook his head. "I wish I hadn't. He's still just as stubborn as they day he was exiled, hasn't changed his mind about that Orc or what he did at all. Still, invoking his son did get him up and moving, if only for him. Fordring will stay until Corrins Crossing, then he will be leaving for Hearthglen."

Arthas growled a little before glancing at Jaina. "Well, as Lady Proudmoore told me, better he make himself useful elsewhere than be isolated and picked off by the Scourge to become a Death Knight."

Jaina gave Arthas a brief smile in return.

Uther grunted. "Hmph. Well, regardless, we shall hold Corrin's Crossing until the King's Army arrives."

"So long as we don't have a repeat of Hearthglen," muttered Arthas.

Uther bumped shoulders with the Prince. "It won't be lad."

Jaina didn't comment during the exchange. As much as she wanted Tirion to make himself useful, that was it. She wasn't a friend to the man; he had stayed a hermit while the Third War had went on, he'd find no ally in her unless he made himself actually useful. Though... if it came down to fleeing to Kalimdor... he might serve a use in dealing with the Horde. If she recalled right, his orcish friend Eitrigg had been an advisor to Thrall. Now there was an idea with merit.

Their path to Corrin's Crossing was left unchallenged, and nestled between both that town and Tyr's Hand, the civilians made it to the latter unmolested. It was rather uneventful, which perked Jaina's unease. The Scourge never hesitated to go after civilians, even if the attack was blatantly unwise and suicidal. As the hours of uncontested control of the crossing passed, Jaina's wariness grew more and more. This was a key town in Lordaeran for its position...

She moved to stand by Arthas, murmuring quietly as they stared out northward from the town. "Somethings wrong."

"Could simply be the quiet before the storm," said Arthas; the tightness of his voice betrayed his unease.

So he had the same feeling then. He had been on that same mission with her after all, the Scourge crawling out of the woodworks everywhere.

"If there's a storm, it's not here," said Jaina, "We're missing something. We have scouts to send out, right?"

Arthas nodded before leaving to send a few men out, briefly conversing with Uther. The elder paladin moved to stand by Jaina, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Did you overhear any plans while you were in the cult of what they would do if they were heavily contested?"

Jaina shook her head. "No. I think the Scourge planned for this to go off without a hitch."

They expected Arthas to have fallen right into their clutches. And, oddly enough, losing at Hearthglen had appeared to save him from that fate. Well, that and getting him back to the comfort of his family and friends, a chance to escape that madness and recover.

"Arrogant," mused Uther, shaking his head.

"None of their plans that I know of would have allowed for Lordaeran's survival, fighting and driving back the Scourge," admitted Jaina, a hint of unease for her, this was new territory, "Nothing I know would be feasible for them to attempt with Lordaeran mostly intact and fighting back."

"Feasible might not be the term you are looking for Jaina," said Uther solemnly, "They may be desperate."

What plans did they have this early on that they would be desperate enough to try...

Half an hour later, Jaina's world fell out from below her feet as a scout rushed back into town. "M'lords! Strathlome is emptying! Hordes upon hordes of the undead are heading northward into Quel'Thalas!"

Jaina's eyes went so wide with naked fright. "No..."

Arthas turned to her. "Jaina? What is it?"

"They can't possibly think to... not with Lordaeran's army able to come in from behind," she whispered.

Uther narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you failed to tell us Lady Proudmoore? That reactions speaks of a plot not minor in scope."

"The Sunwell," said Jaina, her voice trembling, "They're going after the Sunwell. But they can't truly think to pull it off. I warned the High Elves about Dar'khan Drathir, Kael'Thalas was just sent carrying a warning about the Undead and request for aid, Lordaeran is..."

"Days away from being ready to assist, possibly weeks," said Uther harshly, "His majesty needs time to gather our split forces, crush what undead are ravaging our own lands, he wont arrive in Corrin's Crossing for some time. Now may be the last time the Scourge have a chance to do so. Jaina, why do they want the Sunwell?"

"T-they need it to properly r-reanimated Kel'Thuzad as a lich," she stammered, "A necromancer of his power requires a much higher source of magic to reanimate him..."

She shook her head. "No, that's not correct, not a lich, an Arch-Lich."

She glanced fearfully towards Arthas. "Think Araj the Summoner, but at least ten times stronger at minimum."

"Ten?!" hissed Arthas.

"He'd probably be able to defeat Antonidas by himself," admitted Jaina.

Even at her peak, if Jaina and Kel'Thuzad had clashed, assuming he had a chance to continue growing in power as she had, it would have been a battle she wasn't sure she would have walked away from. She would have made sure he died yes, but there would have been a high chance she would have killed herself in the process. Not to mention the issue of his phylactery. As it stood, if Kel'Thuzad reached lichdom now... Jaina wouldn't stand a prayer.

"Even with that power... that seems excessive to try to go through Quel'Thalas for just that," said Uther, a heavy frown on his face.

She shook her head rapidly, terrified. "We have to go, we have to help the High Elves."

"Jaina...," began Arthas.

She whirled on him, panic bleeding out of her. "You don't understand! So much of what the Scourge intends depends on Kel'Thuzzad achieving that power!"

Archimonde... even if they killed every last Scourge in Lordaeran, if Kel'Thuzad became a lich, got the book, and summoned the Demon Lord, it was over for the kingdom.

Uther narrowed his eyes. "Jaina Proudmoore, you were given a chance to come clean with all you knew. What have you been holding back?"

Jaina swallowed back her panic, trying to calm herself, and utterly failing. "N-nothing I thought would be p-possible for the Scourge to achieve."

Uther pointed a finger at her face. "That is not for you to decide _Proudmoore_. You've tread on thin ice..."

"Scream at me all you want after the Scourge is stopped!" she yelled at him, "Throw me in a dungeon for the rest of my life, execute me, _**I DON'T CARE**_! We have to stop Kel'Thuzad now!"

"Enough!" said Arthas, moving to clamp a hand on Jaina's shoulder "We have no time for bickering. Jaina, calm yourself, _now_. Get us a teleport into Quel'Thalas and we will see if they truly need our aid."

Jaina closed her eyes, taking deep, ragged breaths. She was trying, _trying so hard_ , but things were moving rapidly for what they had before. The Third War was never about the Scourge, but the Burning Legion. Arthas as a death knight was a long term plan, something that hadn't borne fruit until months from now with him sailing to, and then returning from, Northrend. Even further with the Scourge as a Lich King. But he wasn't necessary for the Legion's arrival. As of the moment, the Scourge were a tool to the demons, and if they were summoned...

"Jaina," whispered Arthas, a not-so-subtle hint of worry and concern in his voice, "Calm and collected."

She shook her head and aimed a hand forward, calling for a portal...

Only for it to fizzle and die. "What?"

"Uh... are you focused enough to cast it?" asked Arthas.

She narrowed her eyes, beat down her panic, trying again, but once more it fizzled. "It's not..."

She closed her eyes and felt with her sense on the third try, eyes flying open after. "I'm being blocked out. Quel'Thalas is being blocked! But that would require..."

Her faced drained of color. "Naxxramas. They brought Naxxramas to Quel'Thalas. The necropolis is the only thing they have that could create a field large enough to cover the capital area. They'd have flown it right over the elf-gates and dropped an army right on the capital."

The Scourge had never been pressured enough, not even during the Battle for Dalaran where Archimonde was summoned, to bring out the Dread Citadel. It had been kept in reserve until Arthas had went to Northrend to become the Lich King. It made awful, terrible, sense for them to bring it out now.

Arthas swore. "If that's true, what are our chances of arriving in time to..."

"It doesn't matter what our chances are," said Jaina, "We have to go..."

"That's not your call to make Proudmoore," said Uther, his tone a clear warning, "And frankly, its not yours either Arthas, with your judgement clouded in regards to her."

"Uther!" said Arthas, plain as day hurt on his face.

Uther ignored him in favor of glowering at Jaina. "At this point, Jaina Proudmoore, I'm not sure how much we can trust what you say, with you picking and choosing what to reveal where and when you so deign to. How can we trust your intentions?"

It was happening again...

Even after the interrogation and truth spell...

She was being doubted when it mattered the most...

Those who were supposed to be her allies looking upon her with nothing but mistrust...

Would she rejected again? Turned away by the Alliance? Dalaran? Kul Tiras and her family?

Would Arthas turn away from her one day even if he lived through this all?

Alone again... always alone...

She closed her eyes for a moment... feeling that crippling weight and isolation once more... and threw it all away.

She had lived this before, lived with the suspicions of her peers for the last few years, if not the decade. What did she care if it happened again?

So be it.

Jaina opened her eyes as her face darkened, her spine straightened with steel, her voice turning cold and harsh, an echo of what it would become decades from now. "Even if I'm condemned for it after, I will do what I must, with or without your support, _Lord Uther_."

Arthas's hand fell off her shoulder, taking a step back, surprise and shock in his voice, "Jaina...?"

"And what if I stopped you from leaving?" questioned Uther intently.

"I've walked my path alone for years with no one to count on," she answered, her voice low yet pained, gripping her staff tightly, Halion glowing softly with her power. "So I have little qualms about doing so again. I won't let anything get between me and doing what must be done."

So long as Arthas lived, as long as the Legion was stopped... it didn't matter what happened to her...

Uther moved, but he was an old big bulky paladin in armor, and Jaina was a young twig of an archmage. She spun out of his attempt to grab her, and blasted him back with her magic, earning a surprised cry from those nearby and a shocked exclamation from Arthas. She called for a portal to take her as close to Quel'Thalas as she could outside of the blocking, and dove through without looking back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RedpathFamily!Lives.
> 
> Jaina is kinda freaking at the moment, *slight* paranoia included.


	11. Into the Realm Eternal

In hindsight, teleporting at random into Quel'Thalas was a stupid idea. It was only a lucky fluke of teleporting in behind some trees that saved Jaina from being torn apart by legions of undead heading north from Strathlome. She swore a bit under her breath, peeking out to see hordes of zombies shambling northward towards an elf-gate, clawing and tearing at it. She couldn't get in that way, but, the elves would have other entrances. She passed her senses over the area, detecting flashes of arcane energy in the east. She booked it through the woodlands, drawing from the power of the arcane power pulsing through the land, blinking in short teleports to cover the distance faster.

She came across an elven village attempting to fight off hordes of zombies and ghouls, and joined into the fight, lobbing fireballs, summoning water elementals, and raining sheets of ice down upon the attackers. A rallying cry went up through the defenders, and they pushed forward to drive off the attack. She dismissed her elementals and strode forward afterwards.

"Well met archmage," said one of the elven guards, "With the Scourge in Lordaeran, we're surprised the Kirin Tor would spare anyone on such immediate notice."

"You're aware of what's happening?" she asked, curious.

The elf nodded. "Prince Sunstrider sent messengers to warn all the villages as he passed through to the capital earlier today. Less than three hours later, the Scourge poured into our lands."

Jaina frowned. "A quick blitz then. I need to get to the capital, quickly."

The elf glanced behind her, a hint of wariness in his eyes. "Are you... alone?"

"I couldn't wait," she said, "I have intelligence on what the Scourge's goals are here in Quel'Thalas. They're after the Sunwell."

The elf stiffened, all traces of suspicion vanishing under that threat. "Over our dead bodies."

"I believe that's their intention," said Jaina mildly, "The Scourge will corrupt the Sunwell if they can get to it, and the effects that will have in the land and the High Elves... are best left unsaid."

The elf motioned to a ranger watching the exchange. "Take the Archmage to Lady Sylvanas, she's managing the outer defenses and can see her further in."

The ranger nodded. "Best keep up archmage, I need to return here quickly to help protect the village."

Jaina and the ranger took off through the treeline, heading northbound. Twists and turns and crowds of trees that would have left Jaina lost for hours were nothing to her companion, guiding her through, across narrower parts of a stream, and passing through arcane protected areas before they came to a hidden portion of the large wall of stone and trees marking this area of the elfgate. A small doorway allowing into and through the wall under watch by a squad of archers.

"I have an archmage from the Kirin Tor who needs to be escorted to Lady Sylvanas," called up the ranger, "Quickly now."

Jaina was through in a moment, and sprinting alongside another elf to the west, back towards the main part of the elfgate.

Sylvanas's voice range out not much later. "Loose fire arrows! Burn the corpses lest the necromancers raise them again!"

"But what about the forest?"

"It will endure," came the Ranger-General's sharp voice, "Nature can heal and recover, but if this pestilence breeches into our lands, we won't."

Jaina stepped out of the treeline and saw the elf manning the wall, nocking and loosing burning arrows as fast as she could. "Sylvanas!"

The Ranger-General paused and turned, glancing down at the wall, incredulous. "Proudmoore? What are you doing here?"

"I have a warning for your king," Jaina answered.

Sylvannas looked irritated. "Then you should have just teleported to Silvermoon to deliver it, and..."

She paused, eyes narrowing. "And you came alone? Why are you unescorted?"

Jaina bristled a bit. "I am here alone because I was unwilling to wait while Lordaeran dealt with it's own problems and got around to coming to your aid. The Scourge come for the Sunwell, they can't be allowed to get it."

The Ranger-General frowned. "They'll need to breech through the gates before..."

"Sylvanas," hissed Jaina, "The reason I came through here is because I can't teleport to the capital. It's blocked off, and the only means the Scourge have to do so would be a greater necropolis, like _Naxxramas_ , having flown into the capital area, in which, they could have dumped an army right onto Silvermoon."

Sylvanas froze for a moment before she swore in elven under her breath before shouting out orders, "Hold the gates! If they manage to breech, fall back to the second! I'm taking a unit of rangers to return to the capital."

The Ranger-General leaped off the wall and touched down. "Keep up Proudmoore."

Jaina followed in behind Sylvanas and a band of eight rangers, doing her best to keep up with the elves natural speed without teleporting. They passed through the inner elfgate half an hour later, and made for Quel'Thalas. Jaina tensed as off in the distance, hanging high in the air, was the dread citadel Naxxramas. She wonders if they simply flew it in at a normal necropolis pace, or if they teleported it in. Moving an entire necropolis that way wasn't impossible, it was how the Ebon Hold had been summoned over Tyr's Hand back in the original timeline, but it required an immense amount of energy.

Still... if they had snuck a few powerful spellcasters in and fed off the arcane power flowing through the lands... not improbable.

The rangers shifted to make for a treeline rather than continue following the road. Jaina moved as quietly as she could behind them as they slowed to a crawl, peaking out from the treeline cresting a hill. A chill ran down her spine at the hordes of bulky abomination slamming into the battered gates of Silvermoon. Meat Wagons rained putrid death overhead as necromancers and dark cultists cast spells at the defenders manning the walls of the capital. Naxxramas itself slowly floated forward, looking position itself, raining down barrages spiritual attacks. The Scourge were summoning in buildings and bases as they went, coating the ground with fresh blight.

Jaina saw more than one powerful member of the Scourge that she recognized even at a distance. Heigan the Unclean. Noth the Plaguebringer. Gothik the Harvester...

"Patchwerk want to play!"

Jaina's eyes went wide to see the gigantic abomination that had briefly guarded her back on her path through Naxxramas, not-coated in fel-fire this time, barrel forward and shatter through the main gate of Silvermoon, the defenders screaming and scattering. The rangers readied themselves to join the fray before Jaina grabbed Sylvanas's arm.

"We'll get slaughtered if we try to fight out here."

"We will lure as many as we can into the woodland," said Sylvanas.

"Can you get us a way to teleport through the wards in the city?" asked Jaina, "I can teleport us inside."

Sylvanas hesitated for a moment, the elf's sharp eyes searching Jaina's, before she nodded. "All royalty, regents, and Ranger-Generals are given a token that allows us through in times of strife if we need to use back entrances or, if we have an archmage with us. I still think it would be better to lure a chunk of the army on a chase after us, but..."

Jaina shook her head. "It may sound cruel Sylvanas, but nothing else matters aside from keeping the Scourge away from the Sunwell. If that can be held until Lordaeran arrives, even if Silvermoon falls... then there's a chance for Quel'Thalas to eventually repopulate and recover. If they get the Sunwell, the land is lost."

Sylvanas scowled. "Why are the Scourge so desperate for? That they go for this sneak attack while their own attacks on Lordaeran flounder?"

"They want to use it to revive Kel'Thuzzad as an arch-lich," said Jaina, "Doing so out of the Sunwell will make him not only incredibly powerful, but pollute and corrupt it's energies as well. The High Elves won't be able to use it anymore."

Sylvanas stared out at Silvermoon for a moment. "Perhaps, but... how did it even get this far... wait... somethings... where is the Ban'dinoriel?"

Jaina paused. "The what?"

"The Ban'dinoriel is a shield that protects the capital, and the Sunwell Plateau, it's not up," said Sylvanas in disbelief.

"What happened with Dar'Khan?" demanded Jaina.

"I personally killed him and burned his corpse," spat Sylvanas, "He couldn't be involved with this."

Jaina swallowed hard, something was different. She wasn't aware of the exact specifics of this battle, very few high elves had survived it, but she knew the traitor magister had actively betrayed the High Elves during the conflict, sealing the power of the Sunwell from them. Not to mention giving out information to the Scourge and helping them breech the elf gates. She could understand flying over the elf-gates, but how could the Scourge have possibly breached Silvermoon's Sunwell empowered defenses without Dar'Khan's aid?

What was she missing?

Naxxramas itself wouldn't be able to breech them, not against the power of the Sunwell itself. Could the Scourge have had another insider? She didn't know...

It didn't matter right now, they needed to get inside. "We have to get in, now and..."

_BOOM!_

The ground itself shook as a massive explosion of fire blew out of the broken gate, an abomination's broken voice crying out just before its parts exploaded out of the gates in a spray of flesh, "What happened to... Patch..."

Elves poured into the opening, a wall of shields linking together to hold back the undead as a phoenix soared overhead, raining down fire; Jaina commented mildly, "It would seem Prince Sunstrider is personally overseeing the defenses."

Sylvanas clamped a hand down on Jaina's shoulder before turning to her rangers. "Draw as many of the Scourge away as you can, but do not throw your lives away."

"It will be done."

"Teleport us in," ordered Sylvanas.

Jaina raised her staff, shinning with power...

...and blinked them behind the walls, into a street with panicking civilians and rushing guards, making for the walls. Sylvanas took point, making for the main breach. The line of elven warriors, mages, and priests standing fast against the Scourge was impressive. She could faintly recall the names of some of the higher ranking defenders: Grand Magister Belo'vir, Lor'themar Theron, Halduron Brightwing, High Priest Vandellor and High Priestess ( _at the time_ ) Liadrin and... was that Koltira? He might not have been high ranking at the time, but she recognized that would-be Ebon Deathnight anywhere, still so young and eager to prove himself in defense of his homeland. But her eyes were honing in on Prince Kael'Thalas, barking orders, casting fire spells over the head of his people into the ranks of the dead.

"Prince Kael'Thalas!" called out Sylvanas.

The Prince stopped casting and turned his head sharply. "Sylvanas? What are you doing here? You were to oversee the elf-gates and... is that _Jaina_?"

Jaina strode forward, stepping past Sylvanas and ignoring the other elves giving her a questioning look. "Kael, the Scourge come for the Sunwell."

Kael scowled. "It doesn't take a genius to guess that Proudmoore, why have you come?"

"Other than to offer aid?" she said, eyebrow raised.

"Without your keepers?" he questioned sharply.

It was Jaina's turn to scowl. "They were going to wait until Lordaeran had settled it's own issues. They don't understand how much is riding on this battle. The Scourge will use the Sunwell to reanimate Kel'Thuzad as an Arch-Lich, polluting and corrupting it, while gaining the power they need to go forward with their primary goal."

Kael'Thalas narrowed his eyes. "Something you failed to mention when you were questioned, Proudmoore?"

Jaina glared at him. "Yell at me all you want later, I didn't think it would matter because the Scourge wouldn't take Lordaeran, I didn't think they'd just blitz Silvermoon like this."

Kael huffed. "What you _think_ is important wasn't your call to make Jaina..."

"Enough, assign blame on your own time when there isn't a battle to be fought," snapped Sylvanas, "Prince Sunstrider, why is the Ban'dinoriel not active?"

"I don't know," admitted Kael, "My father took his honor guard, archmage Rommath, and a number of the Convocation of Silvermoon to Quel'Denas in order to figure out what was wrong."

He hesitated. "That was roughly an hour ago."

"Could the Scourge have gotten onto the Plateau?" asked Sylvanas.

"I don't see how," said the Prince, "It's tightly guarded. I trust in my father to..."

"That's not good enough," said Jaina, "We need to check."

" _That_ ," said Kael sharply, "Is not your call to make Jaina. And while I don't doubt your intentions to fight the Scourge on behalf of your prince, I'm not sure I trust you on the Isle of Quel'Danas."

"I don't particularly _care_ , Kael," hissed Jaina, stepping forward to be within inches of the elf, eyes meeting eyes in a stare down, "Even if you hold the city, if the Scourge claim the Sunwell, your people are _lost_."

Kael scoffed. "Lost? Hardly, we will recover and..."

"Recover from what exactly Kael?" demanded Jaina, "You were lecturing me alongside Antonidas not long ago about the effects of magic addiction. Have **_ANY_ ** of you elves considered for a moment what happens if you are cut off from the Sunwell? An immense source of arcane power that has flowed through your lands and your people since it's creation? Do you have any idea what that will do to your people?"

Kael paused, eyebrows furrowing. "That's... it's not... us losing the Sunwell is _impossible_. Why would you even think of the possibility..."

"The Scourge have," lied Jaina smoothly. Without a truth spell being at the ready, she was free to spin any tale she needed to, "They planned on just killing their way to the Sunwell initially, they wouldn't even need to bother with any survivors as they would fall to their addiction to the arcane power of the Sunwell once it was corrupted."

Kael pursed his lips tightly, thinking.

"Prince Sunstrider," spoke up a dreadfully familiar voice.

Jaina turned her head to see Lady Liadrin ( _Priestess, not lady yet, she's not Horde yet_ ), step forward, "We can hold back these undead heathens. If the Sunwell falls... she may not be wrong in its aftereffects."

Jaina was... a bit surprised to have the woman come to her aid ( _Not Horde yet, like Sylvanas, stop doubting her_ ), and gave a grateful smile.

Kael grumbled a bit before looking over the defenses briefly. "Grand Magister Salonar, I leave the defenses under your command, I will hopefully return shortly."

One of the elves nodded back, but Jaina was already turning as Kael barked, "Sylvanas, with me."

He gave Jaina a brief look before sighing. "Come then Proudmoore, but be warned I am watching you."

Jaina didn't bother responding, just falling in behind him as the trio rushed through the city, towards the docks. Kael barked for a rower to take them over on a small bout, and they were off minutes later. Jaina tapped her fingers on the edge of the boat impatiently. "Can we not just teleport..."

"It is warded from any outside teleportation," said Kael'Thas, "Even elven nobility."

Jaina sighed, but went silent.

Sylvanas did not however, her elven eyes sharpening and peering ahead. "Where are the pier watchers on the other side?"

A sinking feeling entered Jaina's stomach.

Kael glowered in the direction of the Sunwell. "No elf would shirk their duty being on guard for the Isle of Quel'Denas. If that is any indication, there will be trouble. Dammit."

The moment they were across and getting off the boat, gutterial cries ripped through the air and ghouls started shambling towards them from behind buildings. Sylvanas's arrows and the duo of archmages made short work of them, and the trio grimly moved deeper into the isle. The island was a mess, trails of blood, ripped apart body parts, discarded weapons or scraps of armor. Towards the entrance to the Sunwell Plateau, there were Scourge summoning in buildings to build a defensive perimeter. More and more undead were pouring into the building as the trio watched from a distance.

" _How_ ," hissed Kael, "How did the Scourge erect a base here under our noses?"

"Worry about the how later," hissed Jaina, "Because I just realized something about the offense outside of Silvermoon. Out of all the elite Scourge I saw there, do you know who I _didn't_ see?"

The elves were silent for a moment before their eyes widened, and all three of them said, "Kel'Thuzad."

Kael'Thas summoned his phoenix, Jaina began summoning water elementals, and together the three and their summons tore into the undead burgeoning base. "Don't waste time clearing them all, run for the Sunwell!"

Madness was all Jaina could say to describe their rush through the Sunwell Plateau. Running on the heels of the undead slaughtering their way through the building was unpleasant. Jaina found chain lightning to be her favored mobile spell, just cast and let it go bounce along the undead rather than keeping her focus for a blizzard or pausing to aim a fireball. The elven defenders were sporadic, pockets often holding out in some small room or corner with their backs to a wall, one in particular called out.

"Prince Kael'Thas! Your father is in the Shrine of the Eclipse! Archonisus was breached by a powerful necromancer! It's as if he knew how to break through all of our wards and enchantments!"

Kael'Thas tensed. "How did you get separated from him, Rommath?"

"He ordered me to try and hold back any further undead while he went after the necromancer, their numbers were to great, to fervent, I couldn't...," began the elf.

"We waste time speaking," said Sylvanas, "If the King is facing off against Kel'Thuzad at the Sunwell itself, we have **_no_ ** time!"

They booked it, but as they ran, Jaina started conserving her power, trusting their allies to keep the undead at bay and breech through. Kel'Thuzad would be no laughing mater. They tore through the Agamath, the First gate, Rohendor, the Second Gate, and came upon the ruins of Archonisus, the final gate. Standing there was a Scourge Jaina hadn't expected to see here. In hindsight, perhaps she should have, the man was said to have been a friend of the necromancer in life.

"Baron Rivendare," muttered Jaina under her breath.

Mounted on a skeletal steed was the pale haired form of a death knight, rune-blade glowing with power. At his back were a duo of abominations and several hooded cultists radiating unholy power. The death knight reached up to brush a pale lock from his forehead, glowing blue eyes flickering at them before resting on Jaina.

"Kel'Thuzad wondered if you would come, Proudmoore," said the Death Knight, saluting with his blade, "He told me to give you a 'warm welcome' if you did."

Jaina frowned, uneasy. "Kel'Thuzad expected me, personally?"

That... made no sense.

Rivendare shrugged on his steed. "My old friend rambles and lacks sense these days, but he did believe you would come. Though he did not know whether you would be with your prince or not."

He leveled his runeblade at Jaina, making her tense. "Let us see why my old friend is so interested in your progress."

"You're funeral," she said with a sneer darkening her face, "I'm allied with a elven prince, a ranger-general, and a whole lot of angry elves while you've got two piles of flesh and some worthless sycophants to lick your boots."

Kael'Thas huffed in amusement, a cackle of flames licking his hands as he called on his magic. Jaina needed no further invitation; she raised her staff and unleashed a burst of fire, knocking Rivendare off his steed, searing the abominations, and sending the cultists reeling. Prince Sunstrider waved his hands, and a Flame Strike erupted between the pile of undead as Sylvanas began loosing arrows and the other elves rushed into the fray or joined in the spellwork. Still, Rivendare was a death knight, so when he burst out of the spellwork, runeblade hewing through elf after elf, Jaina wasn't surprised. Jaina simply kept a grim look on her face, and tried to position herself to cast her spells without hitting her allies.

Until a purple bubble sprang up in a large area around the death knight, purple and green runes formed of unholy energy illuminating the ground; Jaina swore, "Anti-Magic Zone."

She _hated_ Death Knights for that ability.

Sylvanas apparently didn't care either way. Her bow was suddenly strapped across her back, and she had a curved blade in each hand, going literal toe-to-toe with the suddenly surprised Death Knight inside the zone as the mages backed off. He wasn't the only one shocked, Jaina hadn't known the ranger had any skill in a melee. She watched, more than a little impressed, to see the flurry of bladework overwhelm the death knight, leaping over a stab to land a single foot on the runeblade before driving her blades right through the death knight's eyes and out the other side of his head.

Shesh, was this why the Arthas of her time had such an obsession with making Sylvanas suffer? She must have been hell to fight against if this ruthlessness was any indication.

"Move!" barked the Ranger-General, already stepping over the corpse as it collapsed and rushing to the entrance of the Sunwell. The entered the building, down a curved staircase littered with elven and undead bodies, passed through a thin red curtain, and into the wide open room containing the Sunwell itself...

The circular room was a disaster zone, hordes of elven bodies scattered everywhere, a literal ring of fallen corpses surrounding the glowing font of power. Standing in the center of the font, was Kel'Thuzad, his staff aimed at the floating flailing body of the King of the Elves, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Admirable, but you should have taken my offer to flee when you had the chance. There is no victory to be found here."

A pulse of black and green energy burst from his staff, blowing through Anasterian Sunstrider, and throwing him away from the necromancer.

"FATHER!" roared Kael'Thas, rushing forward, hands glowing with fire, aiming for Kel'Thuzad.

"Kael, stop!" cried out Jaina, "You can't kill him in the Sunwell!"

Kael tensed, coming to a halt before changing focus, rushing to and kneeling next to his fallen father who was hacking up blood.

"I suggest you leave, boy," said Kel'Thuzad dismissively, "And get your father aid. That wound will kill him if he doesn't receive attention within... say ten minutes at most."

Kael growled at the necromancer before turning to one of the elves, "Magister Rommath, get my father out of here and to a tender, now."

"Son...," rasped Anesterian, "Take up... Felo'melorn...,"

The Prince hesitated, eyes glancing down at a glowing elven runeblade stabbed into the corpse of a ghoul, reaching out with his magic to levitate it to him. "Hold on father, our people still need your strength and wisdom."

"Touching, but I believe we have more important matter's to deal with than an aged old fool who sits in his lands while others burn," chided Kel'Thuzad.

Kael rose to his feet as the king was carried out, casting aside his staff and gripping the yellow blade with both hands. "We do, necromancer, step out of the Sunwell and we'll settle things."

Kel'Thuzad smiled, comfortably swaying a little, letting his robes send ripples through the empowered water. "I'm afraid not, you see I'm rather comfortable here."

"How did you bypass our defenses?" snarled Kael.

Kel'Thuzad chuckled. "I was already on Quel'Denas before you caught and killed Dar'Khan, he had already smuggled me in. I simply needed a distraction that Naxxramas provided before I made my move. You see, we began to accelerate our other plans the moment a certain Archmage threw a wrench in our primary one. Speaking of which..."

His eyes flickered, "Ah, Jaina," purred Kel'Thuzad, looking delighted, "How good of you to come. I was hoping you would."

"Any particular reason why," she asked, eyes narrowed.

He smiled wryly. "Well, after you displayed a _public,"_ was he scolding her? "and uncanny knowledge about the Scourge and our plans, the Lich King grew rather curious you see. He's had you watched through some of our agents and spies, he's found out the most fascinating thing."

Jaina tensed, a sinking sensation in her stomach.

"Prince Sunstrider, could you cast a truth spell for me?" inquired the Necromancer with false sweetness.

The elven prince narrowed his eyes. "What game are you playing?"

"One you'll enjoy, I'm sure," said Kel'Thuzad, "Oh, and Sylvanas, would you be a dear and lower your bow? If you kill me now, you give me exactly what I want."

Jaina glanced back to see the Ranger-General slowly do so, gritting her teeth.

"Now, if you would, my old friend?" asked Kel'Thuzad, glancing at Kael.

"We were never friends Kel'Thuzad," spat Kael'thas, "I was always wary of you and your overreaching thirst for knowledge and power. It's a shame we didn't kill you instead of banishing you once we discovered your experiments."

"Hmm, a lost opportunity for you," said Kel'Thuzad, not interested, "The spell please, you'll find this most fascinating."

"Can we reverse teleport him?" whispered Jaina as soft as she could, they needed him dead, before he ruined everything.

"I'm not sure," answered the elf back, "He's tapped into the Sunwell directly, he could counter any spell we cast."

"The spell," came out Kel'Thuzad's voice, hard now, withdrawing a sickly blade from his robes and holding it up to his own neck.

Kael scowled but did so, raising a softly glowing hand, a hum in the air. "There, what do you want it for?"

Kel'Thuzad's eyes turned sharp. "The Lich King discovered that Jaina Proudmoore was _apparently_ a former member of the Cult of the Damned. Imagine his surprise at that, such a powerful young archmage slipping by his notice? Why, it's practically absurd that she wouldn't have been brought to his attention to be elevated as an important member of the Cult, or that he wouldn't have noticed himself, especially with her being the apprentice of Antonidas. There are so many ways that could have been abused to our advantage. In fact, it made so little sense that it made him... _suspicious_."

Jaina swallowed, hard, ignoring the eyes on her.

"So, he sifted through the memories of his servants, through the occupants of Scholomance before it fell, had them go through their records, and do you know what he discovered?" asked Kel'Thuzad.

Kael'Thas's eyes shifted back and forth between Jaina and the Necromancer, "No, but I can guess where you're going with this, especially since you asked for a truth spell."

"Well, let it not be said you lack intelligence," Kel'Thuzad said, chuckling. "The Lich King discovered there was no record, not a single memory or indication that Jaina Proudmoore had ever been a member of the Cult of the Damned. In fact, he's one-hundred percent certain she was never affiliated with the Cult or the Scourge. He doesn't know how you know what you do, Lady Proudmoore, but he is most curious."

Jaina didn't answer.

Sylvanas growled out. "She admitted to being a member of the cult under a truth spell, told us how she was lured in..."

"No," said Kael'Thas thoughtfully, "She didn't. We implied it, she never confirmed or denied it. In fact, that tale of her saying how she was approached... she never said she was the one approached..."

"Kael," said Jaina, voice strained, "He's trying to pit us against eachother."

"I'm aware," said the elf, "But I do believe he's not wrong. Jaina, were you a member of the Cult of the Damned, the Scourge, or the Burning Legion?"

Jaina went silent for a moment before answering. "No."

Kael shook his head, "I don't know why you would let us believe that you were, to sully your reputation, but it's unimportant for now. Once this is over, you have explaining to do Lady Proudmoore."

"Jaina," came Kel'Thuzad's voice, oddly soft, almost gentle, "You've been playing a dangerous game recklessly and without thought. About the only thing you've done that might make a difference in the long run is to pull Arthas away from the path the Lich King had been setting up for him. Everything else, as you can see, has had little lasting impact. I'm standing in the Sunwell, moments away from lichdom, and you know where this well lead. In the end, all the lives you've potentially saved thus far, have merely been a stay of execution. You've wasted and squandered your knowledge."

"Considering that saving Arthas was my _only_ goal to begin with, and that everything else was secondary, I've done well enough," she snapped at him.

Its not like she had a huge amount of time to plan this out before the demon made that offer to take her back in time.

Kel'Thuzad smiled. "So selfish Jaina. I'm rather proud of you."

Jaina spit in his direction. "Go to hell Kel'Thuzad."

"Hell comes for us both Jaina, there's no need to go rushing for it," said the Necromancer, slitting his own throat and falling backwards into the Sunwell.

The Sunwell itself shrieked and wined as dark energy corrupted it's glowing waters, spreading like a plague. Kael, Sylvanas, and every other elf present gasped as the arcange energy was polluted and cut off from them. Jaina shivered and clutched herself as a chill filled the air. Out of the befouled energy rose the terrifying visage of the Arch-Lich of the Scourge. Headdress looming high on his horned head. His skeletal form levitating with powerful blue energy pulsating between his exposed rib-cage. Chaines spun around him, illuminating and rattling. The pure raw energy he radiated made nervous beads of sweat roll down her forehead as his glowing eye sockets leveled at her.

"It's time for you to leave, Proudmoore," his voice echoed, "You've failed in what you set out to do."

"No," she said, clutching her staff tightly, "We havne't. You haven't had a chance to make a phylactery yet. If we kill you now..."

"When I'm still directly connected to the power of the Sunwell?" chided the Arch-Lich, "Whose power has turned against the High Elves?"

Jaina began pulling her energy out, an aura of arcane power surrounding her.

"Foolish girl," said Kel'Thuzad, "The High Elves are crippled for the moment, you are now the strongest here on your side, and your power pales compared to mine even without the Sunwell factored in."

"It's not about power, Kel'Thuzad," she snarled, "It's something that you would never understand. I have the will to do whatever needs to be done, no matter the cost. You're a threat to everything I know and love, and if I have to die to see you destroyed in order for Arthas and my family to be safe, then I will give my life gladly."

The Arch-Lich regarded her silently for a moment. "I see why Arthas treasured you so, even at the end. Why he made that request."

Jaina blinked. "What are you..."

Kel'Thuzad waved a bony hand, and an eruption of frost blew out from him. Jaina gave a cry and thrust a hand forward, a mixture of arcane, fire, lightning, and ice all exploading of her at once. She fed it everything she had, drawing on her life, anything and everything, and for a moment, she pushed him back, earning a surprised hiss from the Arch-Lich...

Until the putrid energy of the tainted Sunwell rose up, sapping away at her power, making her gasp out and her vision blur. Kel'Thuzad overpowered her then, his icy magic rammed into her, carried her back, and slammed her into the wall with a crack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kel'Thuzad back and badder than ever baby, woooo! Lich!Kel'Thuzad or bust!
> 
> Quel'Thalas is still fucked, but far more High Elves will survive this time around than before.


	12. Before the Storm

When Jaina awoke, she stared blankly at the ceiling of her room in Dalaran. "How..."

She bolted upright in a panic, the last thing she remembered...

"It's about time you woke up, _Jaina_ ," came the thin voice of her Prince.

She turned her head to see Arthas standing by the door of her room...

...his eyes narrowed dangerously at her, anger on his face. "This makes the second time I've been here to see you wake up in the aftermath of your _lies_."

Jaina pursed her lips, so many emotions and questions on her mind, before she banished them and steeled herself, moving to cast off her blanket and stand. So be it, she knew the risks, knew deep down that if she was caught in a lie again she'd lose what little trust she had left. She's done trying to be her younger self, trying to hold onto that lost little girl. She is a fully trained Archmage, who went through events that could have ended the world _multiple times_. "I do what I must Arthas, without regrets."

He stormed up to her, pointed a finger in her face. "You let us believe you were a cultist! Why? What could possibly..."

"What happened in the Sunwell?" she snapped out.

He glared at her. "I asked you a question first."

"And I'm not going to answer it," she said, narrowing her eyes in defiance, not backing down.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Jaina, do you understand just how much trouble you are in right now?"

"Do I look like I care?" she snarled, making him pause, "There are more important things to deal with than politics and reputation. What happened in the Sunwell?"

Arthas kept his eyes narrowed, his lips thinned. "The elves took you and fled from Kel'Thuzad. They began to evacuate their city and their lands, your mother, last I heard, was helping to do so while your father coordinates strategy."

She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and let out a shaky breath. "Kel'Thuzad is alive then. Dammit, dammit all to hell."

A hand gripped her shoulder hard. "Jaina, why did you lie to us? And what exactly are you lying about? I don't believe you are a traitor, even after this, but I frankly don't know who you are and what your goals are."

She drew on her power, backhanding his hand off her shoulder, pointing a finger in his face as she opened her eyes. "Don't play games with me Arthas, I'm sure Kael told you and others everything that was said in the Sunwell."

He looked away for a long moment before looking back, conflicted. "Saving me was your _only_ goal. Jaina... I love you, but... how can you be so selfish?"

She let a growl escape her lips; the unknowing hypocrite. "Just because you were my only goal does not mean I did not try to save others, Arthas."

More than she could say for _him_ in the original timeline.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to work back his emotions before turning. "I was told to bring you before a gathered council when you awoke. This time Jaina, you had best be truthful."

Jaina didn't answer, just fell in behind him, walking through the hallways towards the Violet Citadel. She wondered faintly if she was about to have a repeat of her trial and banishment from the Kirin Tor, past ( _future_ ) and present seemed to be funny that way. Would the current Council of Six be there? Or just those who already knew about her supposed transgressions? She considered what to do when questioned. Reveal the truth? No. She wouldn't do that... well... there was a chance they may believe her after all her future knowledge appeared to be of use, or they may just think she's making things up since she was already caught in a lie. She didn't really know. She wracked her brain for a solution, and she hated herself for seeking out more lies. She was always terrible at politics. What she wouldn't give for advice right about now, some of the dragons she had known perhaps, or the elder magi of new Dalaran even if she resented them, perhaps Aegwynn...

Oh.

Aegwynn.

Now _there_ was an idea.

She kept the smile off her face as she followed Arthas into the main room of the citadel. There was a war table set up. Gathered was King Teranas, Uther, Antonidas, Daelin Proudmoore, and Kael'Thas. She was a little curious where Sylvanas and Saiden were, probably still out on the field or helping evacuate Quel'Thalas. The group turned when Arthas cleared his throat, and then many eyes narrowed in on Jaina. She kept her back straight and stared at the group without flinching.

"A truth spell, now," snapped Antonidas, eyes flickering to Kael who did so, a buzz of magic in the air.

The elder archmage drew himself to his full height and looked at Jaina with suspicion and disappointment. "Who are you truly, Jaina Proudmoore? How long have you been so manipulative and treacherous to weasel around a truth spell with such a carefully forked tongue?"

Jaina felt a spike of _hurt_ flash through her, at the accusation from her Master. That look in his eyes... that she had seen from so many others in her own time... _it hurt so much_... to have it from someone she respected so...

She let none of that pain show, just glowered at him, dropping her deference, and speaking to him as an equal. "Are you accusing me of being a traitor, Archmage Antonidas?"

Accusation flickered in the archmage's eye. "So, you drop pretenses then?"

"I asked you a question first, and your answer will determine whether I even bother with this," she said flatly, earning a shocked 'Jaina!' from Arthas, and an ill-look from her conflicted father while the others watched impassively.

Antonidas pursed his lips. "I don't know what to think, Jaina. Your actions tell one story, your deceptive words another. Has any of your years as my apprentice been in earnest? Or just a lie?"

Jaina closed her eyes, fists clenching, struggling to keep the pain off her face before opening her eyes, feeling tears well up that she battled to hold back. "You are my Master, that was _never_ a lie. I drop pretenses because you accuse me so brazenly of treachery when I have done nothing but try to save lives! If you wont talk to me as my Master, someone I deeply care for, then I'll talk to you as a fellow archmage, _nothing more_."

Antonidas stood there for a moment, a mixture of anger, sadness, and pain on his face. "What do you expect of me Jaina? How can I trust you when you lie to me, lie to all of us? When all we've ever wanted was to help you."

"Have you considered, Archmage Antonidas, that I may have my reasons to do so?" she asked, voice struggling to be plain.

"And what reason could it possibly be?" he asked harshly.

"You are my teacher," she said softly before going hard, "But hardly my only one."

"And who else has taught you Jaina?" asked Kael, "I watched you fight across Lordaeran, face off against the lich atop Scholomance, fight through the Sunwell and briefly against Kel'Thuzad. Your spellcraft and control is _years_ above what it should be, and full of impossibilities if I dare to say."

She stared him down for a long moment, saying nothing.

"I will speak for Quel'Thalas at least," said Kael, "In that I doubt you are a traitor. You have your own goals, selfish perhaps, but that does not make you evil. Your focus may be on your prince, but you did try to save our people, and the memory of the High Elves is long to recall who tried to aid us so. Thus I am asking you Jaina, as someone who would be a friend, someone who cares for your well-being and reputation, give us _something_ to trust in you. Why do you disregard us so? Go off on your own without seeking the council of your allies, deceiving them? For what purpose? To what end?"

Jaina put a hand on her hip and sighed, putting up her half truth ( _another lie, when would they stop?_ ), after all, Aegwynn had taught her, just not in this time. "You act as if I'm the only archmage in history to do so, one of my teachers who taught me so much is well known for doing her own thing, and she certainly isn't evil."

Kael narrowed his eyes, thinking. "Her? I'm not particularly aware of a rogue female archmage..."

"Does the name Aegwynn ring a bell?" asked Jaina, eyebrow raised.

Bait set.

A purely astonished look crossed both Antonidas and Kael's face, both of them echoing, "The former Guardian?!"

Bait taken.

Arthas turned his head back and forth between them. "Guardian...?"

Uther exchanged a long look with King Teranas, who pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "There are many things you are not aware of yet, my son. The Guardians of Trisfal is one of them. They are a now broken line of incredibly powerful spellcasters that were empowered to safeguard our world."

The King leveled a scowling gaze on Jaina. "Suddenly, your actions make far more sense than I would have ever wanted them to. You act just as recklessly and carelessly as your teacher did, of her own will and desires. Somehow, I wonder if this is worse than you being an former cultist."

Jaina didn't hide the offended bristle, glaring at the King.

Kael seemed to recover from his shock. "I'm more surprised that Aegwynn is still alive. I thought she died in the battle against her son."

"No," said Antonidas quietly, "She had an audience with King Llane Wrynn before she vanished, never to be heard of again."

A lot of the hostility had gone out of Antonidas's stance and eyes, most of it was now replaced with exasperation. "All this time, the former guardian has been corrupting my apprentice under my nose. She probably did it to get back at the Council."

Jaina crossed her arms and huffed. "I'd hardly say she's been _corrupting_ me."

Antonidas's exasperation didn't fade, it only grew. "Yes Jaina, she has. It's in your every action."

Was that a hindsight thing to explain what she had done thus far, or did she really act so much like the old Magna? She had spent years with her would be chamberlain, its more than possible she rubbed off a bit. Jaina liked to think it would be her own personality and steel more than anything, her own experiences...

"I'm probably missing the context, but," says Arthas quietly, "That still doesn't explain a few things. You admitted to killing innocents in the initial gathering, under a truth spell, if it wasn't as part of the cult..."

Jaina looked away for a moment. "I've done things I'm not proud of Arthas, that I won't ever speak of. Some accidents, some not."

She glanced at Uther. "I wasn't lying about seeking redemption, just... not for the things you thought I was."

Uther gave her a contemplative look. "You are not going to tell us anything we really want to know, are you Jaina? About how you know what you know?"

She returned a strained smile. "I've already told you more than I want to."

"Then all I ask is this: Are you a threat to Lordaeron or it's people? To the Church of the Holy Light?" asked Uther.

Jaina tilted her head in thought, aware of the truthspell in the air. "I don't want to be, and so long as you don't endanger those I cherish deeply, I wont be. My goals are to see Arthas, and my family, safe. Consider me selfish or uncaring if you wake, in the wake of your kingdom and church, even Dalaran and the Kirin Tor not being my primary aims, that's fine. It's not like I wont try to save them, that I haven't already _tried_ to save them. I am not some cold, indifferent monster..."

"I _care_ about people," she stressed, "I care about my Master, about the Kirin Tor, about the people of Lordaeron, all the innocents and more. I _want_ to save them, I just..."

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I understand that trying to reach for everything, to save everyone is _impossible_. I'll only set myself up for failure and burn out when I do. So I focus on what matters most to me, but still keep reaching for more."

"Aegwynn had that same outlook Jaina," said Antonidas tiredly, "And it cost us much."

"She never set out to harm anyone," countered Jaina.

"No, but she still did, unwittingly through her son," said the Archmage, "I am still troubled Jaina, deeply troubled, but I will put my concerns aside and ask that you _trust in us_."

"How can I trust in those who don't understand?" she countered, "I understand what is coming in a way _none_ of you do."

"Then perhaps you should enlighten us, Jaina," said her father, clearing his throat, "There is a discussion we will have, between you, your mother, and I later, but for now, we have a war against the Scourge to manage to preserve Lordaeron."

Jaina ground her teeth. "You see? You still don't _get it_."

Arthas put a hand on her shoulder. "And what exactly don't we get?"

Jaina pursed her lips. "You are stuck on the threat infront of you without seeing the bigger picture. It's not about the Scourge, it's _never_ been about the Scourge. They may have the potentially to be more than they are down the road, but the Burning Legion is the true threat, and they are literally two steps away from bringing an apocalypse to Lordaeron."

"That's ridiculous," exclaimed Arthas, "Jaina, the Scourge has been mostly beaten in Lordaeran, and we will be moving to help the High Elves reclaim their lands soon..."

"You are not _listening_ ," she snarled, pulling away from him, "You don't get it. You don't understand the situation you are in. You think we're winning? If anything, we're _losing_. You have no idea just what it means that Kel'Thuzad became a lich. If the Scourge fulfill their purpose, Lordaeran is _lost_."

Arthas frowned. "Lost? Lordaeron is arguably at its strongest since the beginning of the Second War..."

"And none of it matters if the Kel'Thuzad gets his hands on the Book of Medivh," she said.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Antonidas. "How do you know of that spellbook?"

"I'm not going to answer that," she said flatly.

"Jaina," began Antonidas in a raising tone.

"I'm not," she repeated harshly, "Going to answer your questions on my knowledge. Either you accept what I'm trying to tell you, or you don't and I will do what I must on my own. I'm done playing games, playing by any rules or care for my own standing or reputation. If by the end of this the entire world hates me, my own family and Arthas included, I won't care so long as they are alive. But I will do what I must, and I won't let _anyone_ stand in my way."

The entire room went silent, staring at her.

"Jaina," whispered her father, "When did you become like this? What drove you to this?"

She gave him a pained smile. "I'm sorry papa, I can't answer that."

"Why?"

She just shook her head and turned to gazing at Antonidas.

The Elder Archmage was pulling on his beard in disturbed thought. "You are far more than you appear Jaina. That will and a spine of steel do not come from nowhere. I dread what must have driven you to this, but, if you will not speak of it, so be it, we have other concerns so long as you are not a threat. You and I will speak when this is all over, about your future here."

Jaina pursed her lips tightly, but said nothing.

Antonidas refocused. "How is the Burning Legion two steps away from destroying Lordaeron, and what does that have to do with the Book of Medivh?"

"The Book has incantations powerful enough to breach a hole to our world from the Twisting Neather," said Jaina, "Getting the book is step one, step two is using it to summon the Demon Lord Archimonde."

Antonidas's eyebrows furrowed. "And who is Archimonde exactly?"

He briefly glanced at Kael who simply stared at Jaina intently.

"Archimonde the Defiler is the right hand of Sargaras, current co-Lord of the Burning Legion alongside Kil'Jaeden the Deceiver with Sargaras currently out of the picture," she answered.

Kael's eyes were sharp. "Well, your knowledge of the Legion is quite impressive if you are aware of that. I only know what was told based off tales from well before my time. I knew of Archimonde, but I've never heard of Kil'Jaeden."

"I don't think he was personally involved in the War of the Ancients," said Jaina, "He was busy chasing the Draenei and recruiting other demonic races at the time I think."

Kael's eyebrows climbed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you know the war by name, but what are 'the Draenei'?"

"Potential allies down the road," she said vaguely.

Kael sighed at her evasion.

"Okay, so, how is a Demon Lord being summoned the end of Lordaeron?" asked Arthas skeptically, "We would fight him..."

"Arthas," she said wearily, "You could have the entire Kirin Tor amassed alongside every Paladin in Lordaeron and Archimonde could kill them all with hardly a struggle."

Arthas gaped at her. "You're not serious."

"I am deadly serious," she answered, her voice stressed, "If Archimonde is summoned, Lordaeron is _lost_."

She turned to King Teranas. "If the Demon Lord is summoned, if you want your people to survive, you must flee across the sea to Kalimdor."

The King's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to trust your word?"

"Honestly?" she said, "No, and you'll get your people killed for it."

"Jaina!" said Arthas in strangled outrage.

She stared down the King. "Doubt me personally all you wish, but do not doubt that I am trying to _help you_."

"Prince Sunstrider," said Uther slowly, "Is there any validity in what she says about this 'Archimonde' and his strength?"

"Our legends of our homeland speak of him," said Kael quietly, "Of him being able to fight the demigods of old. It was said he personally slew the White Stag, Malorne. One of our old patron gods before the High Elves were banished and made their own culture."

Arthas gave him a skeptical look.

"Demigods are more than real Arthas," said Jaina softly, "If we fail here, seeking out one of them, Cenarius, might be our only hope."

And since they were months earlier in the timeline than before at this stage, there was a great chance they might actually be able to get to him in time to save him from Hellscream.

Kael regarded her with... an expression Jaina couldn't quite figure out. "Far more than she appears..."

He shook her head. "I agree with her. If Archimonde is summoned, the High Elves..."

He sighed. "We will flee across the seas and seek out our ancient brethren, whether they will tolerate our presence or not, I do not know."

The Night Elves and the Blood Elves thought ill of eachother in general, but... this was before the High Elves started drawing on demonic magic to survive... there was a chance...

"It's been ten thousand years," said Jaina softly, "There's always a chance..."

"This is preposterous," said King Teranas, "Are we truly willing to abandon our lands without a fight? To the words of this woman?"

"Make no mistake your majesty," said Jaina, "I will fight with everything I can to stop this from happening, but if we fail, then the fight has already been fought and lost."

King Teranas's jaw was set. "The fate of Lordaeron is for it's people to determine, not _you_."

"Then go determine it then," she snapped at him, shaking her head and turning to Antonidas. "There is one way to greatly delay the Legion, destroy the Book of Medivh."

Antonidas frowned. "The book is a relic Jaina, a trove of guarded spellwork..."

"And not worth the potential destruction," she said, tone rising, "Destroy the book, and the only other method I know of them to use would be the Sunwell."

There was the possibility of the Dark Portal and the Tomb of Sargaras as well if they are empowered the right way, and she sorely doubted a Guldan from an alternate timeline was the only one able to manipulate those portals to do so. But that was a danger for another time, the Book and the Sunwell were the current and immediate threats.

"The Sunwell?" questioned Kael, frowning.

"It's a place of immense magical power, if used the correct way by the person with the correct knowledge, it can become a gateway," she answered.

Kael'Thas gave her an ill look. "Your knowledge on such matters puts me ill at ease, Jaina, rather than reassure me."

She gave him a dark smile. "The Legion, and by extension the Scourge, are my specialty."

Not to mention Old Gods, the Horde, Twilight's Hammer Cult, ect...

Antonidas sighed. "I will speak on the matter with the Council of Six, I am going to assume however that they would prefer to provide extra security for it rather than destroy it."

Jaina gave him a long, silent look before shaking her head. "Do what you will."

She turned her head to regard Arthas. "I suggest you try to speak reason to your father. Or at least precaution. I've done what I can, if we fail to stop Archimonde's arrival, if you didn't heed my warnings, then the loss of life is on your head, not mine."

With that, she turned away from the group and walked out, all the while, the back of her mind was screaming that it was over. That next time she saw them they'd throw her out, look at her with that same distrust everyone else did, pass off her warnings as hypocrasy or warmonger of something of the like, they'd turn on her, and leave her alone, all alone, all over again...

* * *

Arthas watched her go, watched that brief glimpse of a shattering face turn away, a solid lump in his throat.

"Light preserve us," muttered Uther, "How can someone so young be so jaded and cynical? Is this the real Jaina Proudmoore?"

Daelin sighed, running a hand down his face. "I didn't recognize my daughter for most of that conversation. I just... I don't understand what happened to her."

Arthas closed his eyes for a moment, trying to... come to terms with what just happened. The Jaina he saw just now VS the Jaina he had known since the beginning of this madness VS anytime before them seemed like three different people to him. He always known Jaina to be kind, studious and intelligent, beautiful woman, gentle at times, but not afraid to give people a piece of her mind if they asked for it. When he had met back up with her investigate the Plague, she had first seemed... fragile, afraid, a bundle of nervous energy. That had quickly faded into grim determination, and a hardness she hadn't had before. He felt that he had personally brought that on by how he had mistreated her, and had mentally kicked himself over and over again for his stupidity. Of course when he had thought her an escaping cultist, his heart had ached for her to have been put through that, wondered if it was his fault for her not reaching out for help before.

Then there was _this_. Caught in a lie, back to a corner, and suddenly Jaina stopped acting almost anything like she had before. She walked like a person who had power and _knew it,_ her back straight, her eyes focused, her jaw set and strong. She was no-nonsense, and held an absolutely commanding presence, something that screamed 'attention'. A will of steel in order to argue down her own teacher and trade unsheathed words. Unafraid do whatever she had to do, and unbending in her refusal to reveal how she knew what she did. She's strive out against the entire world if she had to, and as much as it scared him, it also impressed him beyond words. A bit condescending, stressed, and _extreme_ as well. Uther wasn't wrong on her seeming jaded. She had little to no trust in them, and it frustrated him.

Though, he did admit...

He kind of liked Jaina acting strong and in charge, having the will to do what she felt mattered. Just... all the negatives on top of that...

He wished she'd trust _him_ at least.

Especially since...

"I think... shes not indirectly lying, but... her being a student of this 'Aegwynn' isn't what made her like this," spoke up Arthas, saying a truth he feared, "Its not her primary motivation or drive behind her actions, just another evasion. Dodging the truth spell again."

Antonidas glanced at him sharply, a frown on his face, pulling on his beard in thought.

Kael tilted his head, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Aegwynn, for all her faults, wouldn't turn someone so calloused and jaded. We are missing something, something drastic that happened to her. Without knowledge of this, I feel we will not properly understand her."

The elven prince regarded Arthas. "I feel, Prince Arthas, that you are the only one who may be able to convince her to come clean on whatever it is she is hides."

"She wont," he said, sighing, "Not to all of us, not with so much at stake at the moment if her words are to be taken at face value."

"I wasn't saying all of us," corrected Kael, "But to you and you alone."

Arthas frowned. "Are you asking me to abuse what little trust she has in me? To try to..."

Kael held up a hand. "No. Learn the truth if you can, and tell us only if it makes her trustworthy or not. Do _not_ betray her trust, for it is hard won. Of all the things I do believe, it is that turning Jaina Proudmoore against us would be a terrible decision that would have drastic consequences. She has to much knowledge for us to risk losing access to, and is already, despite her youth, a powerful and advanced sorceress who will only grow stronger."

"I'm not sure she'll tell me," admitted Arthas glumly.

"There is to much riding on what is going to happen," said Kael, "For us to put blind faith in what she says. I feel, not as a leader or a mage or logically, but _personally_ , that we should, she has acted on behalf of my people putting her own life on the line in an impossible situation. She tried to face down Kel'Thuzad, empowered directly by the Sunwell, knowing full well how strong he was, that..."

Kael shook his head. "That takes something very few people have."

It both chilled Arthas to the core, and filled him full of admiration, both when he first heard it and now, to hear of that, not to mention, "It's not the first time either. Hearthglen she fought till we lost, Scholomance she almost died for me. She gives everything she has, her life among what she is willing to sacrifice. I am concerned for Jaina, I am frustrated and a bit angry she wont trust in us, but I have faith that she is trying to help us."

King Teranas shook his head. "My son, even if she is, such secrecy and deception only serve to undermine us. To create doubt where we need none."

Arthas sighed. "I'll try to talk to her, but I promise nothing."

He turned to go before pausing, "If my word has any weight, Archmage Antonidas, I agree that the Book should be destroyed."

He didn't wait for a response, leaving the violet citadel in search of Jaina. He recalled so many of her favored spots in Dalaran, but each one he went to, she wasn't there, until there were none left to check, not even the gardens. Her room was vacant as well, leaving him just a tad flustered on where she could possibly be. He took to walking the city, until he finally found her as the sun started to set, standing alone atop one of the walls near one of Dalaran's entrances, staring out idly into the hilly and forested landscape, a small lake to the south rather than the large Lordamere lake to the north.

She was gazing out there with such intensity, "Jaina?"

She slowly raised a hand and pointed off in the distance, toward a barely visible large hill, her voice was ashen. "That's where they planned to do it initially. The summoning. I don't know if that still stands true."

"Rather arrogant to do it so close to Dalaran," said Arthas, moving to place his arms along the railing, leaning forward to squint off into the distance.

"Wouldn't have mattered if they made a bloody mess of Dalaran and already slew most of the magi," she said quietly, with such loss.

Light, she sounded like she had already lived through something similar. There was only one honest question he could ask. "Who did you lose Jaina?"

Her family was still alive, he was alive, Kul Tiras was still standing, he might not know of all her acquaintances and friends in Dalaran, but he didn't think they had suffered any massive losses. He couldn't understand it, understand her.

She shook her head.

He sighed and pushed off the railing, moving to stand behind her. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to his chest, away from her deathly stare off into the distance. She didn't react much, her body still tense. He rested his chin on top of her head, and perhaps it was childish, but he enjoyed that she hadn't ended up tall enough that he couldn't do so. He listened to the sound of her rasping breath. She didn't sound to good, not ill, but not emotionally well. What cost did she pay acting as she did?

"I'm not asking for them, Jaina," he murmured, "But for _me_. What happened to you?"

She didn't answer, but he felt the beginnings of a shake in her limbs. He wondered, was she reliving whatever happened? Part of him wanted to banish it, carry her away from here to someplace more comfortable where she could relax away from her worries. The other part, that even he still had trouble with himself, trained as a paladin, understood that the weakness of the heart and the mind was just as severe a vulnerability as the weakness of the body or the soul. A compromise of any of the four could destroy a person.

Perhaps he had asked the wrong question initially, not who, but, " _What_ did you lose Jaina?"

"Everything," she whispered back, her voice cracked.

He pulled her to him tighter, even as confused as he was. "Everything?"

She tensed, going rigid, and tried to pull away. "I shouldn't have... forget it Arthas, forget I said anything."

Arthas wasn't one to forget something like that, and kept her firmly pinned to himself. "I can't, Jaina."

She stood there in his arms, no longer trying to pull away, but just as rigid as before.

"Let me help you Jaina," he asked softly, reaching a hand up to brush a lock of hair leaning over her face away, "I'm a Paladin, Jaina, I know a suffering soul when I see one."

Jaina huffed under her breath. "Hypocrite."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing downward at what he could see of her face. "If I have been, then I'm sorry Jaina. I listened as well as I could to you during the initial investigation of the Plague. I can't help who I am, my heart bleeds for me people, even if it makes me do things, _unwise_."

She shook her head, her hair tickling his chin. "You were suffering yourself, but you didn't let any of us in. You shoved us aside at Stratholme, refused to listen..."

Arthas frowned. "Stratholme? Jaina, we never reached..."

Her breathing hitched and this time, she really tugged to try to escape his arms, shaking. "I can't... Arthas _let me go, please._ "

Arthas did, kind of, a bit alarmed, and spun her around, his hands on her arms, looking down on her jittery and panicked face, tears in her eyes. More shaken than he had ever seen her, even when they first met up again. Kael'Thas was right, Arthas was probably the only one who could pull the truth from her, but only because of how vulnerable he made her. He knew he would hate himself for taking advantage of this moment later, but he tilted her chin up, leaned down, and kissed her as gently as he could manage, his hands rubbing her back carefully with his gauntlets.

He slowly broke away, looking into childlike wide eyes. "I care to much to let you go Jaina. I did so once at the Winter's Veil, and I won't make that mistake again, _ever again_. You will be my bride, my queen, and we will have all the children you spoke about wanting back then, I promise you, and no undead nor demon nor even my father will stop me from being with you."

She clung to him, crying into his chest, shaking. "But they did... they did... the undead took you... made you a _monster_..."

He frowned intently. "Jaina, I'm right _here_."

"But you weren't...," she whispered, her voice wasn't _right_ , "You weren't _before_."

"You're not making any sens..."

"I'm... I'm from the future."

Arthas blinked. What now? What did she say? "You're..."

"I... my soul was sent back in time with all my memories into this body," she said, shaking, her voice so scared.

He frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "I've...never heard of such a thing, but... that... would explain a few things." More like explain everything...

Everything...

_I lost everything..._

He went rigged, a suckering in of breath as he finally understood. "Oh Jaina..."

She _**HAD** _ lost her family, him, her people, and so much more, hadn't she? He clutched her tightly to himself, as if to hug all her sorrows away, before what she had said really hit him, his breath leaving his body, "The... I was turned into one of them? Wait... what you said in the first meeting..."

Now it was Arthas whose legs felt like buckling. "They made me a Death Knight? Had me slaughter my father? My... my _people_?"

That had happened? Things went so badly she had to find some way to come back in time?

It was like a switch had been flicked, and suddenly Jaina pulled herself together with do-or-die effort while he felt like his world was cracking. "Arthas, Arthas! Shh Arthas, it wasn't... we should have done things differently. Shouldn't have left you to that..."

She glanced around nervously. "We... we can't speak here."

She waved her staff, and then in a burst of magic, they were teleported to her room. She closed the door with a *thunk* and aimed her staff at it, a glow of magic illuminating the doors, and going to briefly cover the walls before fading away. A spell for privacy if he had to guess. He slowly sat down on her bed, staring at his gauntlets silently.

"I killed my people," he dully, quietly.

"No, Arthas, no," she said, moving to sit next to him, "You... you were already gone by then. Frostmourne stole your soul, and the Lich King twisted you into a monster without enough good in you to stop it."

Arthas swallowed. "Frostmourne?"

Jaina tensed, a hiss escaping her lips. "A demonic runeblade bound to the Lich King. Wielding the sword, or being killed by it, will steal the soul of the victim. Muradin told me later, of everything that happened in Northrend..."

Arthas's eyebrows shot up. "Muradin? Muradin Bronzebeard?"

She smiled sadly. "Yes, him. He... was in Northrend following a rumor of a powerful runeblade."

A sinking feeling hit Arthas all the sudden, it only took him a moment when combined with what she said about soul stealing for him to understand. "It was a trap, wasn't it?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, a strangled breath escaping her lips. "You were to lost, to confused, to tired, to consumed to see it last time. How the Lich King had set you up to fall the entire time. You saw Frostmourne as your salvation, when in truth, it was your damnation. Muradin... he said the closer you got to the blade, even before you touched it, the more you changed, the more consumed you became. When only a moment before you had been seeking the blade to save your people, when you drew closer, it became about seeking revenge."

"So is that it then?" he asked quietly, "I became a monster, killed my people..."

He dreaded to ask. "How many people important to you did I murder?"

She looked away for a long moment. "Personally? I only know of Antonidas. You... _the Death Knight_ , killed him for the Book of Medivh."

"Oh light...," he said harshly, "You weren't joking about Archimonde because you've already _experienced it_. I was complicate in a demonic invasion that killed who knows how many people..."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, swallowing hard, feeling the bed shift behind him as Jaina moved to embrace him from behind, her arms around his shoulder, her head resting against his. "You were gone Arthas, what little good was left of you wasn't enough to break free."

"How could there have been anything left in the monster that would butcher his own people?" he asked bitterly.

"Do you... still have the locket?" she asked quietly.

He gave her a look of surprise, and then couldn't help the shy expression that crossed his face as he took off his gauntlet and reached under his armor, pulling out locket he kept on a cord around his neck, always hanging over his heart. Golden, with a ruby center, he held it close to his heart, always.

"He kept it as well," she said softly, making Arthas start in surprise, "Even after he was so far gone, he still had the locket at the end, when he died..."

Arthas clenched his hands over the tiny trinket, brushing a thumb over the ruby, lost in thought.

They stayed like that for a time, until dusk turned into night.

"If...," he began, "If it wasn't me that made you come back, if I was beaten... was it the Legion?"

Jaina slowly separated from him, sighing. "It... it was everything Arthas. I... had no one left. Lordaeran was gone. My father was dead because I... because I chose trying to achieve a permanent peace with the Horde and... and stood aside..."

Arthas stared at her, more than shocked. "The Horde? How? Why would you even think that was possible?"

Let alone that she would choose those barbarians over her own _father_.

"Because of Thrall," said Jaina quietly, "He... is the only Orc I have ever truly trusted, considered a friend. He kept his kind's savagery in check, he wanted peace, to rise above his past, for his race to be better. He and I both fought against Archimonde and the end of the world. He was the Warcheif of the Horde until shortly after... after you were put to rest."

She growled with hate. "Then he left his position to a _monster_. Who ruined every ounce of progress Thrall and I made towards a true peace. Who... who..."

Her voice turned to ash, her body shook, tears were streaming down her face. "Who bombed Theramore into oblivion."

He turned and drew her close. "Theramore?"

"Its... its where the non-zealot survivors of Lordaeron who followed me across the sea settled down," she whispered hoarsely.

Non-zealot survivors...? There was most likely a story there, but that was for later, he merely held her tighter. "I'm sorry Jaina."

"I had felt like I finally had a chance to start a new life," she whispered, "Then the mana-bomb dropped, and everyone I had got to know for those few years was just _gone_."

She buried her face in his shoulder. "Dammit Thrall... why? Why that _brute_? Why have him your successor instead of Cairne? Just because he was the son of your friend?"

Arthas ran a hand through Jaina's hair all while pressing the names 'Thrall' and 'Cairne' to memory. "Do you truly think they would have accepted peace with the Alliance?"

"Those two, sure, the Tauren had no issues with our race until things got out of hand," she answered shakily, "But my father, he never listened to me. He took over Theramore, and sent us to war against Thrall. I... I had to choose family or years of strife, that the survivors of Lordaeran wouldn't survive. But... they died anyway in the end..."

"You put the needs of your people over yourself and your family," he said softly, with a hint of hushed, if but sad wonder, "Is that not what every leader should do? A sacrifice they should make?"

Light, how stupid was he to have turned away from her at the Winter's Veil? Jaina would have been an _amazing_ queen, she had such a capacity to care, to give for others... how much had the life she had lived ruined that?

She scoffs. "A leader exists to have blame thrown their way when everything falls apart. That's how it was with the new Kirin Tor, with New Dalaran. I threw the Horde out after their betrayal, and then they welcomed them back in, and it just degraded from there. If it hadn't been for yet _another_ Legion invasion, things would have come to a head much sooner."

It took Arthas a moment to read between the lines, at multiple different things. "Dalaran was destroyed..."

"By Archimonde," she murmured, "I... Antonidas had ordered me to flee just before... before the _Death Knigh_ t..."

"Jaina," he said softly, grasping her hands, "Don't try to spare me the pain. You can call him me."

Jaina swallowed. "Before you came for Dalaran. With Kel'Thuzad at your side, you managed..."

"Kel'Thuzad?" he asked, confused.

"Erm... before that you...," she trailed off, unwilling to continue.

Arthas's heart sank, bitter anger and self-loathing filling him. "Was it not enough to kill my own people? Did I have to butcher the elves as well?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He sighed. "It's nothing you need apologies for, if anything Jaina..."

He reached up to caress a cheek. "I should be thanking you, I'd be the Scourge's thrall by now if you hadn't came back."

She gave him a tired, sad smile, but there was deep happiness in her eyes. "It's one thing I at least managed to do right."

"I dunno, if they put you in charge of the new Kirin Tor I think you must have done a wonderful job," he said.

"They did put me in charge after Rhonin died," she murmured; but there was no look of fondness, just pain, grief, and bitterness, "I tried to live up to Master Antonidas's legacy... but I failed... I tried to make them see reason, but they all turned on me..."

She started shaking, "They called me a warmonger, warped, damaged, they stripped me of my rank and cast me out of the last home I had left..."

"You were gone, Lordaeran was gone, old Dalaran was gone, Theramore was gone, my father was gone and my homeland banished me, new Dalaran banished me, none of the other factions trusted me anymore despite everything I had done for them," she said, her voice cracking, "I had no one and nothing left, and its starting to happen again..."

"Jaina, look at me," he said, cupping her chin, waiting for her to do so, "Right here, and right now, you have me. I will never turn away from you again, we will always be by eachother's side."

He wondered if this was the first chance she really had to grieve for her life in its entirety. Not for the specifics, she must have had chances to grieve already for so much. Because she just started sobbing uncontrollably, holding him as tightly as she could. "Arthas... Arthas... my prince..."

He rubbed her back, and whispered into her ear. "Jaina, my queen."

He smiled at the shiver that ran down her back at his words. She wouldn't technically be that for some time, and he imagined he'd be having many an argument with his father, with Uther, and many others, but he would not be dissuaded. She would be his, and he would be hers. And no one would get in the way of that.

"Don't ever leave me again Arthas, _please_."

"I won't if I can help it."

She pulled away, wiping at her eyes, before staring at him with such longing. She reached up and cupped his face, her fingers softly pressing his cheeks, before she leaned up into him, kissing him with a passion held onto for years. He wrapped his arms around her in turn, returning the favor. She broke it briefly, her mouth inches from his, her face heated. "I... take your armor off, Arthas."

He did nothing for a moment; he had the desire himself, and years ago that would have been his cue to instantly do as she commanded, but, in her state, would this be taking advantage of her emotions? He didn't want either of them to have any regrets, wanted them to be sure this time. "Are you sure Jaina?"

"I've never been more sure."

He hesitated for only a few seconds longer, his eyes searching hers, before unceremoniously dumping his armor off by her bed, unhinging and taking off one peice at a time, before he finished. His mouth was on her's again the moment he was finished, gently pushing her onto her back on the bed. He stradled her legs, staring down at her blushing face, before he sank down onto her and made love to his queen long into the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still rated T for Teen, no lemons for you!
> 
> So yeah, Jaina had a rough day, then spilled the beans, kind of, to Arthas. It's not nearly a full disclosure, but an emotional one.

**Author's Note:**

> A story idea I had, because I love time travel, I lub Jaina, and I lub Arthas. So lets mix it all together in a cunning demon's bargain and send Jaina back to before the Scourge of Lordaeran and have her race against Tichondrius for the chance to win the future.
> 
> Only Jaina isn't the nice Archmage she once was. She's lost everything before. And she'd be damned before she lost it again. To beat a ruthless demon, she might have to become as ruthless as it is to win...
> 
> Can't promise when I'm going to work on this story more, but I wanted to get the intro out there to see if people are interested.


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